#why establishments like these are only for kids?!

[highvern]

Beggin' On My Knees

Pairing: Kwon Soonyoung x f!reader

Genre: fluff, smut, hint of angst, established relationship, biker! hoshi

warnings: pregnancy, impreg/breeding kink, fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), nipple play, unprotected sex, praise kink, body worship, spitting, praise kink

Length: ~8k

Note: inspired by the Please, Please, Please MV. this was originally an idea for taehyung but alas my top freak took over again. something about biker/mechanic hoshi really is beautiful thank u @tomodachiii @haologram and @gyuswhore for keeping me sane

summary: After another run in with the law, you come to terms with the fact your friends might be right about your fiancé.

m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

Even at your age, it’s somehow more embarrassing to buy pregnancy tests than condoms. You wouldn’t know since you’ve never bought condoms. That particular responsibility falls exclusively on your fiance after the few times in college when you snagged handfuls from the bucket inside the campus clinic.

You’ve bought a pregnancy test before. Not for yourself but for friends too embarrassed to walk into the pharmacy and publicly declare how active their sex lives were. Now you understand why they wanted someone else to do it. Why are there twenty different brands? Why do they require some high school employee to unlock the case so you can pick the one you want? Why are they so damn expensive? The anxiety you feel rivals the first time you bought weed sophomore year of college from some sleazy frat boy.

You’ve got the box resting on the bathroom counter, a timer on your phone, and the test just out of sight while you pace back and forth in the small space. The door is shut for no other reason than to isolate away from Soonyoung in the event he gets off work early.

You should call Soonyoung. He’d want to know, fight the urge to say something stupid like “I’ll try harder next time” when the tests come back negative and instead offer to pee on one in solidarity if only to lighten the mood.

You never understood when people say a woman just knows until right now because with each passing second the reality that those tests are going to be positive sink in. Despite the fact you and Soonyoung almost always use a condom and the times without them end with him coming anywhere not inside you. You just know it.

Each second ticks down like a bomb waiting to detonate.

Positive. Positive. Positive.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Your stomach twists.  Surprisingly, you don’t dread it as much as you would have a year ago. But a million things a baby entails rush over you. Cleaning out the spare room upstairs, doctors appointments, daycare, clothes, school. Do you even know how to actually take care of a kid? One that belongs to you, who you can’t give back to their person when they get fussy or hurt.

Soonyoung was born to be a dad. He never hid how badly he wanted a family of his own, a family with you. He’s good with kids too. You’ve seen him with his nieces and nephews, your friends’ kids. The middle schoolers in your neighborhood come to him with broken bikes and scooters to be fixed, knock on your front door to ask if he can help them get their ball down from some tree. Even if he doesn't know what he’s doing he’d be there by your side.

As the initial shock washes away, the knots in your chest slowly unfurl. You can do this. Even though you planned your life down to the last detail, Soonyoung has a way of sweeping you into his tide. Engagement, marriage, house, babies. In that order. You’ve already got the house before he asked you to marry him and your wedding is only a month away. 

After the worst of the panic settles into restless jitters, you leave the solitude of the bathroom. Soonyoung still isn’t home from work yet but it isn’t unusual. He’s been pulling more hours, shouldering more responsibilities since Mr. Lee, the owner, hinted at a promotion. Glancing at the clock, you guess he’ll walk through the door in two hours which gives you plenty of time to put together something to surprise him.

After a long shower, you burn time by cleaning up non-existent messes; you can’t sit still. The ‘surprise’ ends up being lackluster. Your weekly grocery shopping trip is tomorrow so the fridge is slim pickings for dinner and you make the executive decision to go out once Soonyoung is home. Some fancy restaurant neither of you can afford with tiny dishes designed to leave you hungry and stopping at the diner at the edge of town for a burger. 

While the noise from the TV hums in the background, you scroll through internet searches on what to do when expecting. Doctors appointments, blood tests, advice on budgeting. It’s information overload but you’re giddy even with the stress.. Then you see it. A screenshot from one of your friends. No words, just a photo. 

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

The longer you stare the quicker the realization becomes a reality. Soonyoung, your Soonyoung, the Soonyoung you’ve been waiting to get home, the reason for three positive pregnancy tests still on the bathroom counter, stares back. Or his mugshot does. A proud stain on the town jail’s website for everyone to see.

Storming out of the house, you notice Jeonghan’s car is gone from his own driveway. Hopefully he’s given your fiance an earful at the station already. If not, you’ve got plenty to say.

Whatever giddy happiness possessed you earlier is long gone, rotten disgust taking its place. How stupid do you look waiting for him at home while he’s gone and gotten himself locked up?

That stupid bike.

It isn’t the first time. That was the initial appeal back when you were a doe eyed freshman, finally out from under your parents thumb with more freedom than you knew how to handle. Soonyoung was the stereotypical bad boy with a taste for fast cars, working in a garage to your good girl persona who set the curve in all her classes. A few drinks at a run down dive bar landed you on his bike in some back alley, a hand under your skirt while he whispered the nastiest things you’ve ever heard. Then you returned the favor back at his apartment, riding him with enough vigor the headboard slapping against the wall sent his neighbors into a fit.

Then came the routine of Soonyoung picking you up from your dorms late at night, staying out until sunrise doing who knows what. He showed you off at street races, called you his girl in front of friends, and would take you out to the lake after winning a race and make you feel like a winner too. 

It was fun. 

Until the calls he’d been out street racing again wore down your patience as your friends’ giddy curiosity turned to embarrassment and ‘I told you so’s. It wasn’t enough to break your heart, but it tore your ego to shreds. They called him a loser and you defended him time and time again because you loved him. Because he promised it wouldn’t happen again.

He promised the last time was the last time. The time before that was also the last time and the time before and so on. 

The parking lot of the police station is nearly empty this time of day; a few police cars and a handful of other vehicles. Otherwise, it sits deserted. 

Jeognhan is waiting for you at the front desk, pretending to type away at something on the computer but you know better. You’ve done this song and dance too many times. 

“What the fuck did he do this time?” 

He quirks an eyebrow, sliding a clipboard with the usual paperwork your way as he speaks. “What do you think?” 

You nearly rip through the paper from pressing the pen so hard as you sign. “You’re fucking kidding me.” 

“Ma’am, language,” a young officer warns.

You’ve never seen him before and the stern look on his face pisses you off even more. His eyes widen in what must be fear because he scrambles back to the filing cabinet at the back of the room without speaking. “I didn’t know you had a new bitch, Han.” 

Jeonghan takes his clipboard back before you can whack him with it. “Nope, that's still your fiancé. Chan, go get Soonyoung from the box.” 

“Tell him I’ve got a hammer in the car for his balls,” you call. 

“Please refrain from making threats inside the police station.”

Soonyoung has the sense to look afraid when he rounds the corner. He’s still in his work clothes, oil stained shirt and dirty coveralls, hair matted to his forehead. You can only imagine what he sees. Last time you picked up he’d still been drunk from a bar fight and you made him sleep on the porch with Jeonghan’s engine as an alarm clock. You’d been too tired to make threats, half asleep the entire time. This time, you feel on the verge of crying, throwing up, and exploding into a fiery rage.

You don’t wait for him while Jeonghan hands over the bag of Soonyoung’s belongings. Halfway to the car, he races to catch up without a word and goes as far as rushing ahead to open the driver's door for you. There’s a fraction of a second you contemplate speeding off before he can get into the passenger seat, let him walk home in the dark as punishment for being a dumbass. But you don’t. You want to yell at him for being a dumbass until your throat bleeds.

The car smells like motor oil and sweat with him so close in the passenger seat. You gag at the stench, rolling all the windows down to avoid vomiting. The last thing you want right now is to need him.

Under usual circumstances the silence hanging heavy in the air would be comfortable, familiar and warm with the golden hue of the sunset and the sound of cicadas not far off. The world holds its breath, but you don’t.

“Do you know how embarrassing it is to find out you got arrested from someone sending me your mugshot?” you ask at the first red light. Soonyoung tries to answer but you cut him off. “No, you don’t. Because I’d never put you in that position.”

He grumbles out the window. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. You’re better than me.”

“You think I’m pissed because I think I’m better than you? I’m pissed because you act like a fucking loser. I’m pissed because you’re a liar! You promised me you wouldn’t do this dumb shit anymore. YOU PROMISED ME. And I look like an idiot because I’m stupid enough to trust you.”

You wait for an excuse. Some honeyed platitude about how much he loves you and it being a mistake and how it’ll never happen again but Soonyoung offers nothing. 

“What do you want me to say?” he asks.

You scoff. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t.”

“Clearly!” you shriek, the vein in your neck throbbing. “Do you know how it feels to have my friends send me your mugshot? I’m at home tearing my hair out and you’re street racing some kid for kicks.”

“He wasn’t a kid—” 

“I don’t give a fuck!” The edges of your vision scorch red, teeth gnashing. You’ve never been this angry with him. You’ve never been this angry, period. “Grow up!”

He’s lucky Jeonghan caught him and not one of the other officers hell bent on cleaning up the streets. He’s lucky you didn’t have to front bail money neither of you have, especially now. Instead of spending the weekend in jail, Soonyoung’s punishment is fixing whatever Jeonghan sends his way for the next month free of charge but it’s not enough, not even close.

The kill shot bubbles on the tip of your tongue but that last bit of self control keeps it under lock and key. This isn’t how you thought you’d tell him, nowhere close to the way the evening happened in your head before you saw that picture. You wanted to surprise him. Watch the way the news sunk in slowly then all at once. You remember the test you left on the kitchen counter for him to find when he got home before everything went to shit. The ember of rage flairs back to life.

“You wanna race so bad, go fetch!” You don’t think as you rip the keys to that cursed bike from his hands and chuck them out the window into the grassy median, gone in a flash. It’s only a temporary solution but it feels good. It’s the next best thing to taking a bat to his bike until there’s nothing salvageable.

Soonyoung sputters. “Are you crazy?” 

Maybe. You’re absolutely toeing the line of unhinged. The car skids to a stop, tires burning against the asphalt. Thankfully the road is clear of any traffic.

“Get out,” you demand.

“What?”

“Get out. Get out, get out, get out!” You repeat the words over and over until he does what you tell him to. You feel the suffocating tightness in your chest signaling tears are seconds away. 

“Baby, let's talk about this,” Soonyoung begs. He tries to reach through the window, he knows your weak spots too well. You snatch your hand away before he can take advantage.

“You can have this back!” You launch the diamond band right at his chest before taking off.

You get back home on autopilot. There are red lights and stop signs and other traffic laws you can’t remember if you followed but you’re in the driveway and barreling up the porch with shaky breaths. Guilt doesn’t cross your mind for a second. Soonyoung didn’t feel guilty for racing like a dumbass until he got caught, so why should you feel guilty for letting him deal with the consequences? 

The urge to do something mean, not just mean but hurtful with the intent of seeing Soonyoung sick to his stomach, rears its head. If that’s what you wanted then mission accomplished. He saved for a year to buy that ring and you threw it in his face like it was nothing but cheap plastic. The ire from earlier rushes out of you like a deflating balloon. Your fingers itch for a cigarette but unlike your now ex fiance, you have to cut out all your vices. There’s no relief in pacing back and forth. There won’t be any solace inside the house either. You’re so tired. All the highs and lows of the day have drained you of everything. You don’t want to be mad or sad or anything anymore. You just want to go to bed and sleep off the entire day. 

You want to leave but you don’t. You want to yell some more but Soonyoung will be at least another hour. There’s nothing to anxiously clean while waiting so you water the crispy plants on the porch while you wait.

Jeonghan’s cruiser pulls into his driveway across the street thirty minutes later. Still no sign of Soonyoung, not a missed call or text. You think to worry but he gets out of Jeonghan’s passenger seat and trudges your way.

He looks angry and tired. But your swollen eyes and splotchy face melts the furrow in his brows.

“I’m—”

You silence him with a blast from the water hose. Soonyoung takes his punishment like a man, standing completely still while you douse him from head to toe. 

“I deserve that. Please, just listen to me—” He’s silent with another stream aimed at his chest. You feel some validation seeing him embody the way you feel: pathetic. 

“Will you put the hose down so we can talk about this?”

“I don’t want to talk to you,” you huff, dropping the hose for him to clean up.

“Then I’ll talk and you listen.”

“No.” You head towards the door with no intention of letting Soonyoung inside. “Go sleep at Jeonghan’s, I don’t wanna be around you right now.”

“He already told me no.”

Jeonghan would take mercy on Soonyoung in this state; soaked to the bone with your engagement ring in his pocket.

You turn to face him. “I want you to get rid of your bike.”

Soonyoung stays at the foot of the stairs leading up the porch. He knows how you feel and he has the sense to look ashamed.

“You want me to sell Tammy?” he asks.

“I want Tammy to fall off a cliff into the abyss but that’s obviously not going to happen,” you seethe, blinking away more frustrated tears.

“I have a lot of good memories with Tammy.”

“What? The first time you got arrested? Or the time you fell off and broke your arm? Oh, I know! When you ended up in a ditch?”

“The time I asked you to be my girlfriend. And the time I won enough money to help put a down payment on the house. When—“

“It’s me or her.”

Does it feel juvenile giving your fiance an ultimatum between you and a godforsaken bike? Absolutely. But you’ve got a kid to think about now and the thought of Soonyoung missing their life because he’s too busy chasing the rush makes you sick.

“It’s you.” Soonyoung says it with finality but you don’t believe him.

“Then prove it.”

“I’ll do anything.”

“Sell it. First thing tomorrow morning.”

He laughs bitterly. “I’m not selling my bike.”

“Then I’ll be sure to tell your kid their dad is a fucking loser.” 

He blinks like the words don’t fully set in but your back is already to him by the time they do. Locked inside the house, you lean back against the door. You don’t want him to hear the crack of breath in your throat breaking into hot, wet tears. 

“What do you mean my kid?” Soonyoung’s panicked voice comes through the door. “YN! Open the door!”

“Go away.”

His whispered curses slip through the door while he scrambles for the spare key hidden in the potted plant by the door. If you really wanted him locked out, you would’ve remembered to move it before he got home. Part of you does want him stuck as far away as possible. You don’t want to face him because you know he’ll kiss your tears away and that’s all you want right now. You want him to hold you, promise you everything will be okay.

The lock of the bedroom door clicks into place right as Soonyoung gets the front door open. You hear him downstairs, looking for where you’re hidden. You can plot his course in your head: straight through the living into the kitchen where one of the positive tests waits to greet him on the counter, then he comes racing up the stairs and outside the door.

He twists the doorknob with no success. “YN.”

“Go away,” you sniffle into the pillow. His pillow. You’re on his side of the bed, in one of his old shirts because even if you wish you hated him.  

A dull thud against the door and a sigh signals his departure. You hear him shuffling back downstairs, but the sound of the front door never comes. The fatigue of the day takes over swiftly. Surrounded by the comforting smell of Soonyoung, you fall asleep until the smell of food wafts up through the vents. Not burnt but if Soonyoung is in the kitchen then it’s only a matter of time.

You creep down the stairs, careful to stay quiet so you can sneak back up without getting caught. Soonyoung’s body blocks whatever he’s organizing on the counter but you tell it’s a bribe from the sight of take out bags piled in the trash.

“What’s that?”

“Dinner. Do you want some?”

He’s got an entire pizza with garlic knots and cinnamon twists laid out like a feast. You watch him pretend to be nonchalant but he’s glued to your every move as you approach the counter and shove an entire garlic knot into your mouth, chewing with enough force to warn you haven’t forgiven him yet even though you're close to it. “I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

“Then we won’t talk,” he sighs into the base of your skull, fingers edging beneath your shirt for the comforting warmth of skin on skin. 

“Don’t,” you say, but lean back into the warmth of his body despite yourself.

“I’m sorry.”

Sure he is. You know he means it. Soonyoung is always sorry but it doesn’t stop him from being a dumbass. But he’s your dumbass no matter how many fights you have.

He lets you eat, content to hide his face in your shoulder and his fingers warm against the waistband of your sweatpants. You hate crying and you hate crying in front of him – because of him – even more. The heavy silence of the kitchen and the love of your life clinging onto you like his life depends on it brings a fresh prick of tears. Once you start, you can’t stop. The tears keep coming as Soonyong maneuvers your face into his chest. His new, clean shirt turns into your tissue. You fall into him without hesitation.

“Are you really…” he asks quietly, dropping kiss after kiss against your hair while you wring out like a sponge. 

“Do you think I’d lie to make you feel bad?”

“No. I just—fuck. You’re pregnant.”

“Is that all you have to say?”

“How do you feel?”

You blow your nose into his neck. “Like I wanna punch my kid’s dad in the nuts.”

“He probably deserves that.”

“He definitely does.”

“And he deserves to sleep outside.”

“Yep,” you nod.

“But you still love him?”

“Of course I do, you big idiot,” you sigh, leaning back to look at him. Mistake. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” His brow presses to yours, face rounded out, soft cheeks that make you want to scream. Brown eyes shine beneath his lashes. Soonyoung knows exactly what he’s doing. 

“I’m still mad at you.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

You don’t but things would be a lot easier if you did.

Soonyoung takes the silence as an admission, and when you don’t object he falls to his knees, pulls your shirt out of the way and presses his face into your stomach. “We should name it Donatello.”

“No.”

“Leonardo.”

“No,” you giggle despite yourself.

“Raphael.”

“You are not naming our baby after a Ninja Turtle.”

“Mojo Jojo Jojo.”

“No.”

“Thanos.”

“Stop!”

“You’re laughing?” Soonyoung gasps, rushing to his feet to pin your squirmy body between him and the counter’s edge. “I’m trying to have a very serious conversation and you’re laughing?”

“You’re an idiot.”

“And you love me.”

You nod, hiding back into his chest where it’s safe. “Yeah, I love you.”

The silence marinates between you. 

“I’ll sell the bike, promise.”

“You’re not the best at keeping promises.”

“This time is different.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want our kid to grow up thinking their dad doesn’t worship the ground their mom walks on. Because I know she’s way too good for me and I’m lucky to have her.”

“I’m not too good for you, I hate when you say that.”

“You called me a loser.”

“I said you acted like a loser and I won’t take that back.” 

He looks away. “That’s fair.”

The icy wall of hurt freezes back up but you’re too tired to drag on the fight any longer. “When I found out my reaction wasn’t ’oh he’s being stupid.’ It was ‘how would I tell our kid their dad missed their birthday because he got himself locked up.’ That’s all I could think about. Explaining to our kid over and over why you’re never there.”

The words rest like a wet blanket over his flame of excitement. He doesn’t want to be that kind of dad; the one who misses their child’s life for something as stupid as street racing. Who leaves you to pick up a broken heart time and time again, two broken hearts.

You’re at arms length, Soonyoung examining you like a puzzle he can’t figure out but wants to try anyway. You hate when he looks at you like that. Like you’re the best thing he’s ever seen and he can’t quite believe you’re real. “You’re gonna be a great mom.”

“Shut up.” You hide the blush staining across your cheeks with another slice of pizza. 

“You are.”

“Well,” you swallow. “I need you to be a good dad. And if you can’t then I’m not afraid to do it by myself.”

“I know.”

“Good.”

“Can I talk to it?”

“If you want to.” You don’t tell him that the thing growing in your womb curiously of him is the size of a pea and doesn’t have a face, let alone ears. You want to hear what his first words as a dad are.

He rucks your shirt up higher until it’s bunched beneath your breast, stomach on full display for him to bury his face into. 

“Hi. I’m your dad,” he starts timidly. You bite back a smile at his earnestness. “I don’t usually make your mom this angry. Usually, she’s pretty happy with me.” His lips brush your stomach with each word, tickling them into your skin. “I hope you take after her. She’s smart, and she’s pretty. God, she’s so pretty. I remember the first time I saw your mom and I knew I wanted to marry her.”

You snort. “You did not.”

“Yes, I did,” he corrects. “We were at this bar. You’re not allowed to go there. Ever. Maybe when you’re thirty or I’m dead. But I remember seeing her when she walked in and I thought ‘that is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen and if she talks to me, I’ll throw up.’ I still feel like that sometimes. Even when she’s mad at me. And then when I got the courage to talk to her, I didn’t throw up because your old man is cool.”

Your heart swells too big for your chest. The night you met him wasn’t the stuff of fairytales. You saw him across the bar, all blonde hair and ruby cheeks as he screamed with his friends. He did throw up the first time you talked to him. After an hour of riding him until it hurt, you melted boneless in his lap and he snuck away to the bathroom to toss the used condom. You faked asleep as he emptied his guts into the toilet bowl before crawling back to bed and begging for cuddles. Pure romance.

“So cool,” you tease.

Soonyoung laces your fingers together, nipping at your fingertips in protest. “Your mom is mean to me but it’s okay because I love her. You’ll love her too. I just hope you’ll love me.”

You fight the urge to cry, only a single tear streaking down your cheek before stopping. “They’ll love you.”

“I hope so.”

“I know so.”

“How?”

“Because I love you and I’m very smart. Remember?”

“I did say that, didn't I?”

You hum in agreement, pulling him up your body to nudge his nose along yours. 

“I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you.” You let him shower you in gentle touches, his hands smoothing up your sides. Soonyoung traps you between his body and the counter, his lips sweeping over your chin, your jaw, your covered chest. That’s when you feel it. “What are you doing?”

“Apologizing.”

“Feels a lot like your penis to me.”

“That’s a part of the apology,” he whispers, the weight of his cocky heavy against your thigh, harder with each controlled grind. “Can’t believe I knocked you up and I never even came inside of you.”

“I can. You talk about kids so much I bet you manifested this.”

“You want it though, right?”

“Yeah.”

You’re lifted onto the countertop, legs spread around his hips. He’s got one hand wedge between your ass and panties to keep you close. “Do you think I’ll be a good dad?”

Not the conversation you thought would happen while you’re tugging his shirt off and working at the tie in his pajamas pants but you humor him.

“I think you’ll be a great dad.” You kiss him gently. His lips, his nose, his cheeks that round in your favorite smile. “If you stop getting arrested. How are you gonna ground Michaelangelo if you keep getting in trouble too?”

“She’s gonna be too smart for that. Just like her mom.”

“Oh, it’s a she now?”

“I’ve got a feeling.” He nips at your throat, a sweet flick of his tongue to soothe the sting. “Back to me coming inside you.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“Gonna take it all for me?”

Your chin tips back to provide more skin for Soonyoung to mark up. “Want it.”

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he heaves. You’re trapped between a hand against the crotch of your panties and one pawing at your ass like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do.

“Take your pants off.”

An amused breath warms your throat. “Someone’s bossy”

“Yeah, and I’m telling you to take your pants off.”

“Yes, ma’am.” 

Shirt gone, sweats pooled around his ankles, Soonyoung stands in nothing but a pair of tenting briefs and the thin chain you gifted him a week after he placed that band on your ring finger.

“Wow, who knew you'd be such a DILF.”

His cheeks tinged pink from the complement. “I’ve been a dad for five minutes and you’re already trying to hit on me.”

“We’re engaged, doofus.”

“Speaking of.” He snatches his pants off the floor, digging through the pockets until a familiar ring appears. “Don’t take this off again.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

He catches your chin between his fingers, pining you in his gaze. “I don’t care how angry you are with me. When I asked you to marry me, I meant forever.”

You can count on one hand the number of times he’s used that tone of voice with you. Soonyoung doesn't get angry often; at least, not with you. The last time he talked to you like this was when you wandered on the wrong side of town late at night, alone and drunk without a way home. You were pissed about a grade and wanted to do something reckless like every other kid at your university got to. Luckily, Soonyoung found you before trouble could. He used the same tone to chastise you for an hour about how stupid you’d been. 

But he isn’t just mad at your antics. He’s scared too. You look at him — really look at him for the first time since this morning when you kissed him goodbye before work. Red eyes, lip bruised, not from kisses but the way he chews it when he’s anxious.

“I’m sorry.” You pull him back, arms wrapped so tightly around his torso he probably can’t breathe and you both like the certainty of it. The tension in his shoulders softens like candle wax but he doesn’t let go. 

There’s still the matter of damp underwear and his boner. You want him, the gnawing aching way you always want him. Between your legs, stroking your sensitive spots to life over and over again until you beg for mercy he’s too eager to deny.

You nose against his cheek, adoring kiss after kiss against his skin until mouths meet. Soonyoung slips his tongue between the seam of your lips. You feel it the way down to your toes. On instinct, your hand trickles down his front, wedged tight between your bodies to paw at the fabric. A few dry jerks is all it takes for him to unravel.

“Wait,” Soonyoung gasps, hips rutting into the tight squeeze.

He keens with another tug, neck flushing a pretty shade of pink. The linoleum bites into your knees before you mouth over his underwear for a taste of what's to come. You suck the head through his underwear before leaning back to tease him with a kiss.

“Bedroom.”

“Didn’t think I’d see the day you’d refuse a kitchen blowjob,” you snicker.

Soonyoung doesn’t laugh. He pulls you back up into a bruising kiss, biting at your lip until you’re sure it’s bruised. His hand gropes down your ass, fingers tight to your entrance from behind. Whatever he wants like this you’ll agree to.

“Want you on my mouth.”

You’d kneel over his face right here on the kitchen floor if he wanted. But knowing your fiance, his sights are glued to whatever fantasies boil beneath that blond hair of his. 

You race up the stairs, Soonyoung hands heavy on your sides. His thumbs press into the bare curve of your hips. Your clothes fall until just your underwear remains. You want to turn around and mount him on the steps but the second floor landing is close enough you don’t get a chance. 

Soonyoung flicks all the bedroom lights on, eager to see every part of you as you crawl up the bed on all fours in nothing but your underwear. A few years ago you wouldn’t dream of sex with a lamp on let alone the overhead light but years of his utter devotion to your body and wanting to watch you get off like it’s his very own miracle gave you confidence. He looks ready to jump out of his own skin at the doorway. You glance over back and arch your spine a little more, ass higher in the air for his viewing. You might just finger yourself like this to see him suffer. You’ve done it before.

You stretch out, naked chest on display. “Are you coming?”

“Fuck yeah, I am.” Unconsciously, he palms his cock and approaches the side of the bed, pulling you into a kiss with a heavy lick of his tongue.

It doesn’t take much to drag him on top of you, dick hot to your thigh, perfect to rut against. There’s too much Soonyoung to think of anything else. His hands pinning you in place, his breath fanning across your chest as he suckles across the slope of your breast, thighs surging between yours in a dry hump you can’t help but beg for more of. His hips stutter when you do.

He follows the same playbook you did earlier; fingers trailing to the wet patch of your wants, mouth following closely. You’re in for a treat when he’s on his knees like this. He wants to tease you the way you did him but Soonyoung isn’t committed to denying you anything, he wants to rake you over hot coals by giving too much. 

Your hands eagerly hook beneath your knees, legs spread wide before him like a feast..

“Taste so good,” he rasps with a soft suck at your clit. “You’re so hot.”

Even with the barrier of your underwear each lick lights you on fire. Soonyoung moans a lewd melody, lost in his own paradise. Your thighs twitch with each gentle prod at your entrance, folded away by his shoulders so he can touch as much as he wants.

The promise from earlier lights up your brain. You twist a tight grip in his hair, pulling hard enough to detach him from your body. Lips wet, eyes blown, Soonyoung tries to dive back down until another twist of your nails makes him wince.

“Call Jeonghan.”

His mouth may be gone but his fingers circle your clit in the way that makes you whine. “What?”

“Call. Him,” you command. 

You snatch your phone from the end table, forcing it into Soonyoung’s grasp. He still doesn’t understand what you’ve asked.

“Sell him the bike right now.”

“Now?” He looks down at your pussy still on display, underwear soaked in spit and arousal.

You nod. Soonyoung knows better than to argue. He’s back in your good graces but only just, the promise of shipping that infernal bike off to someone else keeping him afloat. 

Your body throbs for release, for his mouth to go back to work instead of whispering into the phone when Jeonghan answers. 

“Two grand? Bullshit! There's at least…” he trails off.

You’re not going to stop just because he’s busy. You grab your breasts, taunt nipples visible between your fingers. Clad in a pair of sticky panties and nothing else, you’ve reduced him into a stuttering mess. Any other night he’d already be smothering himself in the wetness. You can see the urge in his gaze as he swallows loudly.

“Four,” Soonyoung counters. His face twists between wanting to argue with the neighbor, brows furrowed, lips in a heavy pout, and watch in awe as you suck on your own fingers before pinching at your chest again.

You’ve got him distracted with a hand between your legs, pushing your underwear out of the way to flash him exactly what he’s earning. Flushed and wet, the smell of sex hangs in the air.

“Thirty-five,” his voice cracks as you spread your legs wider, pulling his hand right where it belongs.

Soonyoung bats your hands away, fingers twisting through your heat. A gentle prod at your entrance like he hasn’t mastered your pussy enough to make you stupid and strung out with a few touches. There’s no way Jeonghan can’t hear every pleased sigh, the wet noise echoing from your pussy, the annoyance in Soonyoung’s voice as they barter back and forth. 

Soonyoung leans over and spits where his fingers disappear, making you jolt with the force as he does it again. You nearly ask him to spit in your mouth just to see his eyes bulge but the opportunity disappears with the sound of Jeonghan’s cackle through the line.

“Fine, three. I’ll give you the keys tomorrow.” He ends the call, forces your hand out of the way, and eagerly makes up for the minutes lost.

Both of your hands find the soft strands of his hair to hold him in place. Your feet plant on the bed beside his wide shoulders, allowing you to hump his face pathetically only to be welcomed with a grunt. The rip of fabric registers right before what was once your underwear is left stretched across the middle of your thigh. 

“S-shit, don’t stop.”

His fingers spread for his tongue to lick between. You punish him for such a dirty move with a harsh pull of his hair that he loves more than anything. Soonyoung does what he does best: groveling for your forgiveness. You’ll give it to him like always. But you both want him to work for it; it’s better when he does. 

He spreads your legs wider, gives a pleased grunt when you hold him in place and grind into his mouth. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chant; vision blurry, body on fire.

Soonyoung moans into the sloppy mess of your pussy, sucking your clit between his lips, wedging another finger between the two already ruining you. 

“Oh god—there.”

Your thighs crush his head but he forces them up and open, pinned in place. The tender glow of the end escalates into a scalding burn as it rips through every muscle. You clench so tight around his fingers he can’t move them more than a tight curl. When you cry at the overstimulation he finally rests.

“Did you just—”

Pins and needles ripple through your muscles and all you can do is nod. Once the initial shock fades, there’s a smug twitch of his lips. He catches your foot and pins it before you can kick him.

“Shut up.”

“Have I told you how much I think about you being pregnant?” he asks, watching your every move.

You shake your head. His fingers keep working in gentle strokes, the wet noises quieter than before but loud in your ears. 

“It’s a lot,” he grunts. “Fuck, you’re gonna be so sexy.”

“I’m not already?” you half laugh, half gasp. The spark of arousal already demands more so you rock your hips down despite the sensitivity.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

“But I’m not sexy?”

“Don’t pick an argument with me right now, please,” Soonyoung begs. 

“Why?”

“Because I’m thinking about coming in you until you can’t take anymore.”

“Then I’ll be sexy?” you goad.

“You’ve always been sexy.” He punctuates the compliment with a kiss to your left hip bone. “Beautiful.” Another on your right. “Gorgeous.” One on the plush of your thigh. “I love you.”

He folds you in half, knees to chest like you possess the flexibility to stay there, ankles cuffed in his hand, lips hot on the back of your thigh. 

“We should fuck on the bike one more time,” you tease. 

“You want me to defile the mother of my child on a motorcycle?”

You moan at his words. You want him to come wherever he wants, as many times as he can. Until he can’t anymore. To feel nasty and used however he sees fit. You want him on top of you, behind you, bending you over every surface he can until you’re shaking.

“You’re about to defile me right here. W-what’s the difference?”

Soonyoung curls the fingers inside you tight, eyes glued to the way you heave before answering. He fucks into that spot that makes you his puppet and all you want is to ruin him the same way he ruins you with the slightest touch. “You said I should stop doing things that’ll get me arrested.”

You choke on another tease as he sucks on your clit, tongue coaxing pathetic sighs right out of your lungs. He could do this all night. He’d be happy to. Soonyoung grips you tighter as you squirm away. It’s too much. He knows it and that’s why he loves it so much, knowing he can make you cum hard enough to scream.

“Are the cameras still broken at the garage?”

“Yeah,” he grunts, already knowing exactly what you’re thinking.

“Then you can defile me at your place of business, over the bike. Just like old times.”

“No condoms.”

“How else are you gonna stuff me full of cum?”

Soonyoung groans, pushing your legs wider as his hips rut into the mattress. “Wanna come inside you.”

“Then get up here and do it.”

You’re soaked between the legs, sensitive and swollen. Soonyoung settles into the warm cradle of your thighs easily, pressing his cock into the wet mess of spit and arousal. Your body acts of instinct, hips tilting until he slips between your walls.

“Oh my god.” He laps at the swell of your breast. “‘S okay?”

“Yeah, they don’t hurt yet.”

The sharp edge of his teeth leaves lines across your skin while he sucks at your chest until your spine breaks in half. His fingers keep firm pressure against your clit. Sloppy but enough to keep you pulled taunt. You’ll come a second time if he keeps it up.

“Oh my god,” you echo. 

Soonyoung likes to fuck hard. Hard enough you feel like all your seams are splitting, just shy of shattering your limit. Now’s no different but there's a new edge of caution. Even with his hips flat, inside you until nothing is left to give, he tangles your fingers together and pins them over head in the pillows.

You push your body against his, needy and pliant. Blind want acting as a guide, your ankles lock around his waist. It feels so much better than all the other times he’s fucked you like this; knowing the risk of him coming inside no longer counts and he can do it as many times as you ask. 

The slap of your skin against his fills the room, grunts and pathetic whines passing between mouths with narrowed vision. Nails biting into his shoulders, you flutter tight, trying to pull Soonyoung deeper even if he’s snug to the hilt. Stretched full beyond belief.

“More,” you beg. Frantic. Needy. All those feelings Soonyoung can incite with the barest of touches and a look.

He rises back on his hands, lighting up with each pathetic whimper of his name. “More what?”

If you had the brain power you’d knock the stupid smirk off his face. “Fuck me.”

“I am,” Soonyoung taunts.

“Breed me.”

“Already h-have.” Soonyoung looks like he wants to laugh but he sinks as much weight as he can into his hips, rhythm clumsy but it’s so good you don’t care. “Fuck, such a good girl. Aren’t you?”

You clench around him. He isn’t the most inspired with dirty talk but he knows your buttons, loves to press on your praise kink when you least expect it. 

“Say it.”

“I-I’m,” you stutter from his fingers finding your raw clit. “I’m your good girl.”

“My pretty little wife,” Soonyoung gasps. “Perfect.”

Every bit of praise adds a drop in the bucket, chest tightening until it explodes without permission; shredding through your veins. Your teeth sink into his shoulder. Hard enough to bruise as you cry, “Soonyoung.”

He doesn’t stop for your orgasm, not for a second. You asked him to breed you and it’s his sole purpose until you’re both satisfied. “G-gonna come.”

“Want it, want you to come in me,” you sob.

Soonyoung grabs for your hair, a gentle tug with enough force your eyes open to find his.

“Want it?” he pants, tilting your hips to fuck deeper. You nod with limited room thanks to his grip. “Then take it.”

The sticky heat you’re accustomed to on your skin stains your insides for the first time. There’s no way you can go back. Not after knowing how right it feels to have him fill you. You shiver beneath his weight, nerves twitching from the idea of him doing it again. Immediately.

“Love you, love you, love you…” Soonyoung chants into your skin, lips slipping over your throat with each breathless gasp.

You roll down into the nasty feel of cum and cock, the minor relief not nearly enough. Not with the idea of sucking the combined taste off him rearing its head. But Soonyoung collapses with a point flex of his thighs to stop your motions.

“Holy fuck,” he shudders. “If you let me do that sooner, we’d have ten kids by now.”

You’re flustered at the idea. “Do you think my vagina is a baby rocket launcher?”

“It’s definitely something.”

“How romantic,” you snort. “Give it a few months and I’ll be so hormonal you won’t touch me with a ten foot pole.”

“Is that what you think?” he hums, face still hidden in your neck like he’s too exhausted to move except to lap at the dip in your throat. A subtle grind reminds you of his cock still wedge in your guts, stiff like he didn’t come hard enough to see stars.

It’s hard to think that after so many years together, this is the biggest love rush you’ve ever experienced. The urge to keep him wrapped in your arms for as long as possible brings tears to your eyes. 

Soonyoung pops over your face after the first sniffle, terrified. “Are you crying?”

“No.” You swipe at the tears. “Shut up.”

“Aw, baby,” he coos, failing to hide his amusement.  

“I’m carrying your child, sorry my hormones are all over the place.” You bat his hand away unsuccessfully, leaning your cheek into the comforting warmth of his palm.  “We’re ready for this?”

“I mean, I was planning to knock you up on our honeymoon anyway,” he shrugs, lips soft on your hairline. “Do you have any more of those tests?”

“Why?”

“I wanna see what’d happen if I pee on one.”

“Nothing.” You push him off, rolling onto hands and knees with your ass in the air, face buried in the pillows. “Now, fuck me again.”

Soonyoung pushes the head of his cock through the mess of cum leaking out before sinking back inside with a grunt. “Yes, ma’am.”

taglist: @/tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie

@gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire

@missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @sliceofwoozi

@writingbarnes @dokyeomkyeom @christinewithluv @minwonfairy @wobblewobble822

@futuristicenemychaos @seungkw1 @horanghaezone @jespecially @scoupsjin

@isabellah29 @luvseungcheol @crisle19 @iamawkwardandshy @lukeys-giggle

@aaa-sia @tinkerbell460 @gyuhao365 @ourkivee  @bokk-minnie

@cookiearmy  @moonlightwonu @kyeomofhearts

@melonacco @lllucere @wwjagabeee @syluslittlecrows @yourbimbohope

@whrryuu @wonrangwoo @xchaenx @champagnenoona

[mononijikayu]

paninindigan kita — ryomen sukuna.

“You know what, I changed my mind. You can go ahead if you want.” he’d said, looking anywhere but at you. “I’m not really the best company.” You looked at him with a raised brow. “You just told me that you wanna get home together.” “Yeah, but I—” “You think I care?” you shot back, smiling and pulled at his arm. “Come on, let’s go.” “Hey, aren’t I gonna have a choice here?” You giggled. “When someone makes a promise, he gives up his right to rescind the offer!”

Genre: Alternate Universe — College! AU;

Warning/s: General Rating, AFAB! Reader, Use of She/Her, Use of Female Centered Identification, Pet Names (Babe, My Love, Hotshot, Etc), Romance, Fluff, Humour, Love, Comfort/ Hurt, Friends to Lovers, Established Relationship, Lovers, Dating, Delinquent Trope, Feeling, Light-Hearted, Slice of Life, Idiots In Love, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Healthy Relationship, Friendships, Profanity, Swearing, Teasing, Injury, Mention of Violence, Mention of Delinquency, Mention of Injury, Mention of Physical Fighting, Volleyball, Volleyball Captain! Sukuna, Boyfriend! Sukuna, Girlfriend! Reader;

Words: 7k words.

Note: i know im in the middle of the valentines special, but i just can't help myself. i reread lovesick and it just slaps you know??? i ended up thinking about what could be a sequel to it. i ended up thinking about opm songs as title, since opm songs just hit different when it comes to love.

paninindigan kita is soooo perfect for this. oh and this is another multiverse of concubine reader and sukuna, where they are ACTUALLY in love. so i hope you enjoy this little gift. i think this is,,,,the care before next week. nanami's fic is NOT for the faint hearted. it requires tissues. anyway, i love you all!!! see you on the 10th <3

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

══════════════════

IF ONE WAS BEING HONEST, NOT MANY CHILDHOOD SWEETHEARTS MAKE IT THE WAY YOU AND VARSITY CAPTAIN RYOMEN SUKUNA DO. That is the unadulterated truth, tried and tested through the ages and has stayed true to itself.

You and Sukuna had started dating in a very discreet manner in junior high. It was a very well kept secret for a time. And that was to be expected. The Sukuna people knew today was not the Sukuna he used to be. 

That’s why you supposed everything about it was new and uncharted, something even both of you could not expect. Everything about it was a wild, unexpected match that neither of you saw coming but somehow made perfect sense.

Ryomen Sukuna was already by this time an infamous troublemaker, a magnetic force of nature for danger and trouble. He was someone  with a reputation as the school’s untouchable menace and he proved that almost every day. 

Teachers sighed when they saw his name on the attendance list. The school staff could only release a curse and a groan with the realization that they would have to clean up after him and many students from the whole of the junior high and high school whispered about the many fights he always got into but somehow never lost. 

He was that young boy with the proud bruised knuckles and a defiant smirk, walking through the halls like he owned the place even though authority figures would have loved to see him expelled.

His uniform was perpetually rumpled, his tie loose like he couldn’t be bothered to fit into anyone’s mold. Even all the parents warned their kids to steer clear of him, to avoid trouble.

But you? You saw something else.

It wasn’t just the raw confidence or the magnetic way he carried himself, though that certainly didn’t hurt. No, it was the glimpses of a quieter Ryomen Sukuna. You knew the boy who lingered behind the gym after school, looking out at the sky as if he was waiting for something bigger than this tiny town. 

Often he would drink a strawberry milk carton and eat anpan and somehow sleep as peacefully as a kitten. You knew the boy who would shove his hands in his pockets shrewdly and softly mutter a word of thanks when he woke up, realizing that you were also sharing his space and quietly brought him bandages when he rested there after a particularly bad fight.

That continued on for a while. And somehow it became a routine. Though, it changed from time to time. At times you found yourselves eating lunch together and talking to each other in between the bites. At times you both ended up playing card games, after he brought some with him — since he pocketed it off some poor first year junior he defeated. 

(Though he brought it back when you scolded him about it.

He groaned on and on about it, telling you he’s not going to do it.

But before you went home from cleaning duty, you saw him place it on that first year’s table.)

Sometimes, you get into the habit of listening to music. Which made you realize that you both liked classical music. Though his favorite is Tchaikovsky and yours is Mozart. At one point, the two of you were bringing out books. 

At first you were surprised that he was someone that seemed to read for fun at all. Yet he did. If anything, he read books you didn’t even know about yet. And he would lend you his copies so you both can talk about it (and occasionally debate and argue.)

You were perplexed by the person he was. Everything about him was a contradiction. And almost certainly, it was the thing that pulled you close to him, almost like you could be the moon to his Earth. But you realized that deep down, in the depths of the person he was — he was someone that was brilliant. 

Almost radiant scarlet in the rough gravel it dwelled upon. And you were perhaps the only one who knew that. The thought of that had made you bitter for a while, because such a gem shouldn’t be lost in the ether. Yet, there was a part of you that recognized that it was alright. Because you were already there. He wasn’t alone anymore. And he was glad for it. 

Soon enough, you both realized that you were going the same route home. Just that you liked to walk home and he liked to take his bike. And because he doesn’t like abrupt endings, just as in the book. So, he suggested walking you home himself. After that, he thought about it. After that day, he left his bike at home. 

And then he came up to you about walking home together. That first time he asked you to walk home with him, he’d tried to play it cool. He’d never gone home with anyone, let alone a girl. Let alone you.

And so, conclusion is that he was nervous.

He wanted to do well about it. 

Yet, he was a trainwreck almost immediately.

“You know what, I changed my mind. You can go ahead if you want.” he’d said, looking anywhere but at you. “I’m not really the best company.”

You looked at him with a raised brow. “You just told me that you wanna get home together.”

“Yeah, but I—”

“You think I care?” you shot back, smiling and pulled at his arm. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Hey, aren’t I gonna have a choice here?”

You giggled. “When someone makes a promise, he gives up his right to rescind the offer!”

You could hear him grumbling under his breath, but it was nothing too bad to be sure. And that didn’t matter, not when his hands were warm against your own. Not when you could feel his scarlet eyes trailing against you so tenderly. Not when he was letting you lead the way anyway.

From that day forward, Ryomen Sukuna never went home alone again.

At first, you kept things quiet. At Sukuna’s request, of course. Sukuna didn’t want your name dragged through the mud because of him. People talked enough shit already. About how he was trouble, how he was destined for nowhere good. They just say everything that doesn't count to you. 

You knew better, but he hated the idea of you being lumped in with his reputation. After all, you were better than he was, almost akin to a damn real life angel. You deserved better than having been considered a deal with him.

But of course, the stubborn girl you were was steadfast in saying no and only no. Not even when he gets into the worst situations.

“Why do you even hang around me?” he asked one afternoon, leaning against the chain-link fence near the basketball court. The sun glinted off the sweat on his brow from another fight he hadn’t started but definitely finished.

Sukuna huffed, leaning back against the wall as you pressed the bandage onto his arm with more care than he thought necessary. His crimson eyes narrowed slightly, but the rare smile tugging at his lips betrayed the amusement he tried to hide.  

“You’re terrible at this, you know that?” he muttered, his tone gruff.  

“Oh, I’m sorry, hotshot.” you shot back, glancing up at him with mock offense. “Next time I’ll let you bleed all over the place like some dramatic action hero.”  

He rolled his eyes. “I’ve had worse.”  

“Yeah, yeah, Mr. I’ve Had Worse.” You smirked, smoothing the edges of the bandage down. “You’re lucky I’m even doing this.”  

“Why?” he asked, almost challengingly.  

“Because I want to.” you said simply, not bothering to look up as you reached for another bandage. “That a problem?”  

“That’s a terrible reason, really.” he muttered, his lips twitching. “Not well thought out.”  

“And if it is?” you asked, finally glancing up at him with a playful glint in your eyes. “Whatchu planning to do about it?”  

For a moment, Sukuna just stared at you, his sharp features softening in the warm glow of the room. The mischievous curl of your lips, the way you leaned in just slightly closer than you needed to—it was infuriating and endearing all at once.  

“Dunno, really.” he said, his voice low but tinged with humor. “Maybe I’ll let you keep patching me up. You’re already doing such a stellar job here.”  

You scoffed, giving his arm a light smack. “Ungrateful jerk.”  

“Careful now.” he teased, his grin widening. “You keep calling me names, and I might start bleeding just to make you work harder.”  

“Don’t tempt me with a good time.” you shot back, laughing. “I’ll use glitter bandages next time. Make you look real tough.”  

Sukuna chuckled, a rare sound that made your heart flip in your chest. “You’re lucky you’re cute.” he muttered.  

“And you’re lucky I like fixing up dumbasses who can’t avoid getting hurt.” you replied, sticking the last bandage on his arm with an overly dramatic pat. “Done. Now, try not to get stabbed again for, like, a week, yeah?”  

“No promises, babe.” he said, standing up and rolling his shoulders with a smirk. “But I’ll let you keep playing nurse if I do.”  

“Deal.” you said, grinning. “As long as you don’t complain next time.”  

“Not a chance.” Sukuna muttered, though the rare, genuine smile still lingered as he followed you out of the room.

As you finished packing away the first aid kit, Sukuna leaned casually against the chain wall, his usual confidence back in full swing. You glanced up at him, hesitating for a moment as you watched him flex his arm slightly, testing the bandages.  

“You know, ’kuna.” you began, your voice softer than before, “I don’t just patch you up because I feel like it.”  

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, his smirk faltering. “What? Do you do it for practice or something?”  

“No, no.” you said, laughing lightly. You stepped closer to him, your heart pounding, but you managed to hold his gaze. “I do it because I like you.”  

For the first time in what felt like forever, Ryomen Sukuna looked genuinely stunned. His crimson eyes widened slightly, his usual sharp tongue momentarily silenced. He looked at you as the sly look in your face slowly melted into the tender demure one, blushing bright everywhere on you. But almost instantaneously, you got your resolve back.

“…What?” he finally said, the word coming out quieter than you’d expected.  

“I like you, I said.” you repeated, more confidently this time. “Like, really like you. And not just because you let me fix you up after you inevitably get into trouble. I like you.”  

Sukuna stared at you, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you worried you’d miscalculated, that maybe he didn’t feel the same way. But then, ever so slightly, his lips twitched.  

“You’re serious?” he asked, his voice low.  

“Completely.” you said, crossing your arms with a grin. “What, is that so hard to believe? You’re not that bad, you know.”  

His gaze softened, a rare vulnerability creeping into his usually guarded expression. “…I didn’t think you were stupid enough to like someone like me.” he muttered, but there was no bite in his tone.  

You rolled your eyes, stepping even closer to him. “Well, surprise! Turns out I’m just that stupid.”  

For a moment, Ryomen Sukuna didn’t say anything. Then, with a quiet chuckle, he rubbed the back of his neck, his grin finally breaking through. “You’re unbelievable.”  

“And you’re not saying anything about how you feel about this.” you teased, poking him lightly in the chest.  

He smirked, grabbing your hand before you could poke him again. “Maybe I’ll keep you guessing.”  

“Or maybe you’ll just admit you like me too, you know?” you shot back, leaning in slightly.  

Sukuna sighed dramatically, though the corner of his mouth twitched. “Fine. I like you too. Happy?”  

You grinned. “Ecstatic.”  

He rolled his eyes, but the faint blush creeping up his neck didn’t go unnoticed. “You’re gonna be a pain in my ass about this, aren’t you?”  

“Absolutely, hotshot.” you said, laughing.  

Sukuna shook his head, but his rare, genuine smile lingered. “Yeah, well… don’t expect me to go easy on you just because I like you back.”  

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” you said, winking back at him. “Now come on, I still want that sundae from the convenience store!”

And for the first time, Ryomen Sukuna didn’t look like the untouchable, tough guy everyone thought he was. 

He looked happy.  

Too damn happy.

And it looked good on him.

Both of you enjoyed the quiet of your new bliss as much as possible. You both kept to yourselves most of the time, expanding on the adventures you already made as your routine. You both kept it discreet, and this time because you both weren’t ready for anyone to just know all about it. You wanted to keep Sukuna all to yourself. And in turn, he did too.

But despite your best efforts, secrets have a way of getting out.

The day everything changed was after Sukuna took on three older guys who thought they could corner him near the sports field. He walked away victorious, of course, but with a split lip and a bloodied brow. You rushed to his side without a second thought, cupping his face as the crowd murmured around you.

“You’re bleeding again, 'kuna.” you said, dabbing at the cut with a tissue from your bag.

“I’m fine.” he grumbled, though his eyes softened under your touch.

The crowd wasn’t subtle, not one bit.

“Wait... are they... together?”

“No way.”

“Her? With him?”

“She’s too good for that delinquent.”

Ryomen Sukuna heard every word, his jaw tightening. He was used to the judgment, but hearing it directed at you made his blood boil. He was ready to snap, to tell everyone to shut the hell up until you squeezed his hand.

“Let them talk their shit.” you said calmly, meeting his eyes. “I don’t care.”

The warmth in your voice melted the tension in his shoulders. You didn’t care. And that was enough.

From that day forward, Sukuna didn’t bother hiding how much he cared about you. He walked you to class, carried your bag when it was heavy, and glared down at anyone who dared look at you sideways. People whispered, of course, but no one was brave enough to say anything to his face.

You saw sides of him no one else did, one he only exposed to the person he held dearest. The one that devotedly belonged to you. And you kept him safe, closer than ever before. You started to build a puzzle, full of every bit of him, little by little. 

The Sukuna who stole fries off your plate but always left you the last bite, who texted you to make sure you got home safe, even when you weren’t walking together, and who fought less often because you made him want to be better.

He was still rough around the edges, still intimidating to everyone else, that was true enough. But with you? He was just Sukuna. Your Sukuna. And that was all you ever wanted him to be.

Life did change after your relationship went public, though not as dramatically as you might have expected. Sukuna was still the notorious troublemaker with a penchant for glaring and intimidation. 

You were still the person everyone was convinced was too good for him. But if anyone thought Ryomen Sukuna would mellow out completely, they were sorely mistaken. Especially now that you both were in the last year of high school.

That one afternoon, as the two of you walked home together, Sukuna stuffed his hands into his pockets, his usual scowl in place. “People still can’t believe you’re with me, y’know.” he muttered. “Heard some idiot today say you’re slumming it. Tch.”

You snorted, nudging his side. “Just jealous, ‘kuna. I’m pretty sure they can’t handle that the delinquent king got the best catch in school.”

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching upward slyly. “You think I’m the delinquent king? Sounds like I need a crown or something, don’t I?”

“Oh, please.” you teased. “If anyone’s getting a crown, it’s me. I’m obviously the one carrying this relationship, my love.”

Sukuna stopped dead in his tracks, dramatically clutching his chest. “Wow. Betrayed by my own girlfriend. After all the fights I didn’t start for your sake.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “You’re such a drama queen.”

“You knew that going in.” he shot back, grinning now as he draped an arm over your shoulder.

The playful banter continued as you reached his house. You both planned to eat dinner together before he took you home. Your parents didn’t mind that you were coming home late, since they were also working. 

And they understood that you were after the volleyball team manager. Though they didn’t know about how early you finished — primarily because Sukuna always ends practice early so he can spend more time with you before he takes you home.

Coming inside the house, he welcomes you inside. Sukuna carefully kicked off his shoes with a huff, flopping onto the couch like a cat claiming its territory. You followed him rather quickly, settling in beside him as he lazily tossed an arm around you.

“You know, my love, I’ve been thinking.” you said, tilting your head to look at him. “You’re actually kind of sweet when no one’s looking.”

“Don’t start spreading lies now.” he teased, his grin widening.

“Oh, I’m serious. Big bad Ryomen Sukuna, all soft and cuddly.”

He narrowed his scarlet eyes. “Say that again, and I’m carrying you out of here fireman style.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

The next thing you knew, Sukuna had hoisted you up over his shoulder, laughing as you squealed and flailed. “Ryomen Sukuna! Put me down!”

“Too late, babe.” he said smugly. “You called me soft. Now you’re getting evicted.”

“I live here half the time already!”

“Not anymore!”

Eventually, he relented, setting you back down with a grin that made your heart skip. You huffed, crossing your arms. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it, don’t you?” he said confidently, leaning down until his face was inches from yours.

“…Maybe.” you admitted with a smile.

He grinned triumphantly. “That’s what I thought.”

As much as the world still saw Ryomen Sukuna as the intimidating, wild Cursed King, you knew the truth. Beneath the scowl and reputation was a boy who loved fiercely, who fought for what mattered, and who never let go of the one person who saw the real him. 

And honestly? That was more than enough for you.

══════════════════

AFTER A YEAR AND A HALF, YOUR MOTHER AND FATHER FOUND OUT. The news broke just right before the typical family dinner on the Sunday. And you had wished it never happened. Because it just broke your heart to endure this.

There was a seemingly innocent comment from a well-meaning neighbor who talked with her high schooler daughter about how "Ryomen Sukuna from the volleyball team always walks you home." And naturally, that made your parents curious. A little digging here and there from the neighbor, it was out.

You could practically hear the record scratch when your mother paused mid-stir of the soup, eyes narrowing suspiciously. Your father, ever the stoic one, lowered his newspaper with a furrowed brow.

It didn’t take long for their disapproval to make itself crystal clear.

They didn’t care that Sukuna’s presence grounded you, that his gruff demeanor melted into rare softness when it was just the two of you. They didn’t see the boy who remembered the little things—how you liked your ramen without onions, your favorite snacks for stressful days, or how he always carried an extra umbrella just in case you forgot yours.

None of that mattered.

What they saw was a scowling boy with tattoos crawling up his arms and a reputation for fists that spoke louder than words. They didn’t hear his low, thoughtful hums as he followed the rhythm of the anime openings he adored, or his boyish grin when he perfectly timed his spikes on the volleyball court.

Your mother wrung her hands, pacing. “That boy—he’s nothing but trouble, I’m telling you. What future does someone like that have?”

“Volleyball captain or not, it doesn’t matter.” your father grunted. “He’s not the kind of person I want near my daughter.”

You clenched your fists under the table, biting your tongue until it hurt. They didn’t know him, not really. They didn’t know how he carefully patched you up after your own scrapes or how he walked at your pace, even when it was inconvenient for him. 

They hadn’t seen him laugh, hadn’t heard his proud, slightly cocky declaration when you aced an important test: That’s my girl.

“I love him.” you said, voice steady despite the lump in your throat.

Silence fell over the room, heavy and suffocating.

Your mother looked at you as though you’d just confessed to a crime. “Love?” she repeated incredulously. “You’re too young to understand love, and especially with him.”

Your father’s jaw tightened. “You’ll end this nonsense immediately.”

“No.” you said firmly, standing up, your chair scraping against the floor. “I won’t.”

They didn't expect that.

“You don’t get it, do you?” you continued, trembling but resolute. “He’s not what you think. He’s kind, thoughtful, and he’s helped me become a better person. Just because he’s rough around the edges doesn’t mean he’s bad.”

“You’re throwing your future away for him?” your mother exclaimed, pacing across the living room.

“He’s nothing but trouble!” your father added, shaking his head. “We didn’t raise you to make these kinds of decisions.”

“I’m not throwing away anything!” you shouted back, voice shaking. “Sukuna’s not what you think he is. You don’t know him at all!”

“We know enough, daughter.” your mother said sharply. “Boys like him don’t change. They just drag you down with them.”

The words hit harder than you expected, cutting deep.

“Well, maybe I get to decide what my future looks like!” you shot back, tears blurring your vision. “And it’s none of your business who I love!”

Silence hung heavy in the air, thick with words that couldn’t be unsaid. Your parents’ faces were hard, unyielding, and it was clear there would be no convincing them tonight. Heart pounding, you grabbed your bag and stormed toward the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?” your father demanded.

“Anywhere but here.” you spat, slamming the door behind you.

You didn’t know where you were headed until your feet carried you right in front of Sukuna’s house. By the time you reached his door, your throat was raw from holding back sobs, and your chest felt like it was going to burst. You knocked twice, the sound echoing in the quiet evening.

The door carefully creaked open, revealing your Sukuna in sweatpants and a loose hoodie, hair messy like he’d just woken up from a nap. His sharp scarlet eyes softened when he saw you standing there with tear-streaked cheeks.

“Hey, babe.” he said, blinking. “What are you doing here?”

“I ran away from home.” you blurted, voice trembling.

There was a beat of silence before he stepped aside. “Well, come in. Can’t you be out here in the cold.”

You shuffled inside, dropping your bag by the door as Sukuna closed it behind you. 

“What happened?”

“Rough patch.” You whispered to your boyfriend. “.....So I left.”

“You left?”

“Yes.”

He looked at you as though he didn’t believe you. “You have a bag with you.”

“Okay, look. It was bad and I ran away.”

“You ran away?” he repeated, leaning against the wall with crossed arms. “Like, for real? With the dramatic door slam and everything?”

“Yes.” you muttered, sinking onto the couch. “My parents found out and…..they don’t like you.”

Sukuna snorted, though there was a flicker of something softer in his eyes. “Yeah, well, I’m not exactly a parent’s dream, y’know. Shocking, I know.”

“They said you’d ruin my future, my love.” you admitted, voice cracking.

He let out a low whistle. “Damn. Harsh.”

“I told them they didn’t know you.” you continued, wiping your eyes. “But they didn’t care. They said they did. Like you were some villain or something.”

He scratched the back of his neck, looking vaguely uncomfortable. “I mean… I do kinda have the whole villain aesthetic going for me.”

You glared at him. “Not helping.”

“Sorry, sorry.” he said, though a small grin tugged at his lips. “So, what’s the plan now? Gonna fight me for the good spot on the couch and share my instant ramen?”

The absurdity of it made you laugh through your tears. “Sounds like a great future.”

Sukuna grinned, leaning back against the couch. “Your parents are probably losing their minds right now.”

“They’ll get over it….eventually.” you said stubbornly, though doubt lingered at the edge of your voice.

“Maybe so.” he agreed, his voice softer. “But if they don’t, you can stay here. I mean, I’m kind of a mess, but I’ve got room.”

“Really?” you asked quietly.

He shrugged. “Yeah. You’re not so bad to have around.”

The bittersweet warmth in his words made your chest ache. “Thank you, my love. Really…..I’m lucky to have you.” you said, leaning your head against his shoulder.

“Anytime, babe. Don’t worry about it.” he muttered, resting his cheek against your hair. “But, uh, just one rule.”

“What?”

“No eating all the good ramen flavors. I’m serious.”

You laughed, the sound lighter now. “Deal.”

As messy and uncertain as everything felt, sitting there with your Sukuna, so domestically and so enjoyable in the warmth of each other — everything about it didn’t seem so bad. If anything, it was a lot more than what you would expect. It was a life worth living.

The steam from Sukuna’s shower lingered in your skin as you stood by the fogged mirror, brushing your damp hair out of your face. The fight with your parents still sat heavy on your chest, but the warm water had washed away some of the weight. You exhaled slowly, steeling yourself before slipping into one of Sukuna’s oversized shirts that smelled faintly of laundry soap and him.  

Padding out into the living room, you were met with the comforting aroma of something savory simmering in the kitchen. Sukuna stood at the stove, bare-chested except for a pair of gray sweatpants slung low on his hips, stirring a pot of miso soup. His hair was a mess, damp from the lingering humidity of the house.  

“You cook?” you teased, leaning against the doorway with a raised brow.  

He didn’t even look up. “Don’t sound so surprised now. Didn’t I cook you your lunch during festival week?”  

“Oh! I thought that was store bought.” You teased him.

He raised a brow, amused. “Oh, is that so? How about I stop cooking—”

“No, no. Continue.”

He hums, moving closer to kiss your cheek. “Hm, that’s what I thought.”

The casual affection in his voice settled something inside you. The warmth of his lips stayed tender against the pinkish hues of your cheeks. You looked at him for a moment. He shook his head and smiled, pointing at the dining table. 

You nodded and sat at the small dining table, watching him move around the kitchen with surprising ease. He plated rice into two porcelain bowls, poured the steaming miso soup into the smaller soup bowls, and set them down in front of you with a clink.  

“Nothing fancy, babe. Sorry about that. I didn’t get to the grocery today. Practice lasted longer today.” he said, sitting across from you. “But it’s good to curb the cold from you, since it’s warm.”  

“Don’t worry about it, my love. It’s more than perfect.” you murmured sincerely.  

The first spoonful was simple but comforting, warmth spreading through you as you ate in comfortable silence. It was just like a hug, like your beloved boyfriend’s tender hug. You hummed as he watched you eat. Soon enough, Sukuna ate with his usual ease, occasionally glancing up at you as if to check if you were okay.  

“So……” he said after a while, leaning back in his chair. “Are you really not going home tonight?”  

Your spoon froze midway to your mouth. “I don’t know. Not tonight. And…..Maybe not for a while.”  

He nodded, his expression unreadable. “Then what? Are you moving in with me?”  

Your heart skipped a beat. “What?”  

“I mean, I don’t….mind.” he shrugged at you nonchalantly. “We’re young, yeah, but if that’s what you want, I’m not against it.”  

“You’re not?” you asked, stunned by how easily he said it.  

“Nah.” he said firmly. “If you’re here, I’m gonna live my life taking responsibility for you.”  

Your breath caught as the gentle pink in your cheeks turned cherry red. “Sukuna—”  

“I’m serious, babe.” he cut in, his voice softer now but unwavering. “You just walked out on everything for me. That’s not small, you know? I have to do the same. So I’m gonna make sure you’re happy, whatever it takes. I’ll figure it out. You’re my one and only for the rest of our lives.”  

The sincerity in his words hit you like a tidal wave. Suddenly, brutish tears blurred your vision, and before you knew it, the spoon clattered onto the table as you stood up. Sukuna blinked in surprise as you stumbled blindly around the table and threw yourself into his arms.  

His chair scraped back as he stood to catch you, his arms wrapping tightly around your trembling form. “Whoa, hey.” he murmured, sounding a little panicked. “What’s this? Are you crying on me now?”  

“You’re such an idiot, you’re such an idiot!” you sniffled against his shoulder, voice thick with emotion. “But I love you so much.”  

He froze for half a second before laughing, warm and genuine. “Yeah? Well, I love you too, idiot.”  

You pulled back just enough to see his face, your tears still clinging to your lashes. His grin was crooked, soft in a way that made your chest ache with affection. He takes in the look of you, with that devoted haze that could only be once in a lifetime. 

“Guess we’re stuck with each other now, huh?” he teased, brushing a tear from your cheek with his thumb.  

“Yeah, yeah.” you whispered, smiling through your tears. “For the rest of our lives.”  

Sukuna grinned, pulling you back into a hug. “That’s good to hear.” he murmured against your hair. “Cause you know that’s exactly what I want, hm?”  

In that moment, with his warmth surrounding you and the future uncertain, you felt the tears well away and calm take over you. With this love, this warmth, this man — somehow everything just felt less frightening. And it made you feel so lucky. 

So goddamn lucky to live, to have this love. This life. Because you knew that no matter how messy things got, you’d be okay as long as you had each other. As long as you had Sukuna, you’d be alright.

══════════════════

THE MORNING WAS RATHER UNEVENTFUL. Well, that was until the blue hour huddled through the capricious skies. The knock at Sukuna’s door was heavy and deliberate, filled with the weight of everything unresolved. 

You stiffened instantly, your heart thudding against your ribs as you glanced toward the window. Your breath caught when you saw them—your parents standing stiffly on the porch, your father’s expression hard and unreadable, your mother fidgeting with the strap of her purse.  

“It’s them, my love.” you whispered, stepping back as a lump formed in your throat.  

Sukuna, drying a dish at the sink, glanced up and set the towel down with calm purpose.  “Your parents?” he asked, his tone neutral.  

You nodded, unable to form words. “I don’t want to see them, not right now.” you muttered finally, wrapping your arms around yourself.  

Sukuna’s sharp eyes softened as he walked toward you. He placed a warm hand on your shoulder, grounding you. “You don’t have to, babe.” he said quietly.  

Relief washed over you, but it was short-lived as he made his way to the door.  “What are you doing?” you asked in a panic.  

He glanced back at you, a small, reassuring grin tugging at his lips. “Gonna talk to them.”  

“Ryomen Sukuna—”  

“Hey, hey. Just trust me, okay?” he said gently, giving you a tender gaze. “I’ve got this.”  

Before you could stop him, he opened the door and stepped outside, closing it softly behind him. Your heart raced as you crept toward the window, peeking through the curtain.

Your parents stood rigidly on the porch, their expressions guarded but uncertain. Sukuna stood tall, almost so proud, with his broad-shouldered and unflinching, meeting their gazes with calm confidence.  

“I see you’ve come.” he greeted politely, his usual sharp edge tempered by something respectful but firm.  

“Where is our daughter?” your father demanded, his voice gruff and commanding.  

“She’s inside my house.” Sukuna said evenly. “But she doesn’t want to see you right now.”  

Your mother’s face faltered. “We just want to talk to her.”  

Sukuna nodded, understanding in his expression. “I get that, mam. I really do.” he said calmly, “But I also get why she’s upset. I know I’m not exactly the kind of guy parents dream of for their kid. I know that much. ”  

Your father’s frown deepened, but Sukuna stood his ground. 

“I’m not here to make excuses for myself.” Sukuna continued, his voice steady. “I’ve been in fights, well I used to. I’ve stopped, ever since me and her dated. But I know that I’ve got a reputation, and I know how that looks to you. But I need you to know this—” he took a deep breath, his voice unwavering, “I love your daughter. And only her.”  

Your mother’s lips parted in surprise, but Sukuna wasn’t finished.  

“She might not move back home with you and that’s her choice, I respect that from her.” he said, glancing between them. “But I want you to know that she’s safe with me. I’ll take care of her."

He only continues when they didn't speak. "I’ll make sure she’s never hungry, never sick, and that she always has a roof over her head. I’ve got a job, and it pays well enough for a graduating high school student. And my parents wouldn’t mind having her here either.”  

Your parents were stunned, the weight of his words settling over them. Even from behind the window, you could see the cracks forming in their defenses.  Sukuna’s lips curved into a small, genuine smile. 

“I hope that clears things up, mam, sir.” he said simply. “I love your daughter. I really do. I hope you see that. I hope you see that I’ll always live and breathe for her.”  

Silence stretched between them. Your father cleared his throat, clearly at a loss for words. Your mother’s eyes glistened, though she remained quiet.  Sukuna dipped his head respectfully at them. He knows they would need time to process all that. 

“Thank you for coming, really.” he said gently. “You can come see her anytime if she’s ready. But for now, let’s respect what she needs. Please.”  

With that, he turned and walked back inside, closing the door behind him.  You stood frozen, tears welling up in your weary eyes as Sukuna leaned casually against the doorframe, his expression unreadable.

He takes a soft breath before he looks back at you, almost too shyly. Almost like he wants to hide away as the warm scarlet of his eyes echoed on his cheeks too. “You heard all that, huh?” he asked, voice low but amused.  

“You’re unbelievable, my love.” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.  

His lips quivered into a lopsided grin. “In a good way, I hope.”  

Without thinking, you surged forward, throwing your arms around him and holding him tightly. Sukuna hesitated for only a moment before wrapping his arms around you, his warmth enveloping you completely.  

“I love you. So so much.” you murmured into his shoulder, your voice breaking.  

He chuckled, the sound low and comforting. “Yeah? Well, I love you too. Always.”  

You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, which softened in a way they rarely did. You don’t think you’ve ever felt love like this, not even before when you had crushes. Or not even when you fell in love for the first time. In a way, Sukuna had made his own category in your heart, in your soul. He was irreplaceable, he always will be.

“Thank you, for being in my life. I don’t know how I’d be without you.” you whispered, the weight of everything he’d done settling over you.  

He brushed a tear from your cheek with his thumb. “Don’t thank me, babe.” he said with a grin. “This is just what you do when you love someone, right?”  

You hummed back at him. You felt his hands drift through your hair, slowly letting the strands slip through his fingers in a careful caress. He kisses your temple, meeting your eyes. Your chest ached, full to the brim with affection for the boy who had always stood by you, fierce and unyielding.  

“Guess we’re stuck with each other, aren’t we?” you said softly.  

“Damn right, babe.” he teased, pulling you back into his arms. “Forever or nothing.”  

══════════════════

epilogue

This year’s championship dinner was already wild, perhaps even wilder than the last year. Well, that was to be expected, especially with Captain Ryomen Sukuna negotiating the afterparty budget with the university himself — and considering he was bringing in the best result the university ever had in sports, why wouldn’t he get the big afterparty budget?

There was so much of the abundant hotpot bubbling at every table, plate after plate stacked high as if it's attempting to reach heaven, and the varsity volleyball team loud with post-victory energy.

Ryomen Sukuna, however, was in his own world, calmly devouring hotpot like the unbothered menace he was, chopsticks working methodically through noodles. And that you expected. Your boyfriend was exhausted.

You, meanwhile, had everyone's full attention as you dramatically told the story. 

“So there I was, the most beautiful person alive.” you said, waving your chopsticks like a microphone. “I was just standing in Sukuna’s living room, freaking out because my parents showed up. And I told Sukuna I didn’t want to see them. What does this guy do?”

You pointed dramatically at him and he didn't even look up. “He walks outside, so brave with his barefoot, like some rom-com protagonist, and tells my dad—who, by the way, looks like he grills steaks with his bare hands sort of energy—”  

“Big dad energy, got it, got it.” Vice Captain Gojo Satoru interjected, already wheezing.  

“—‘I love your daughter, and I’ll always live for her!’” you said, attempting to mimic your Sukuna’s gruff tone.  

Setter Geto Suguru slapped the table, howling. “Nah, stop it. THE Captain Ryomen Sukuna? Mister ‘I’ll spike a volleyball through your face if you breathe wrong?’ Are you sure?”  

“I’m serious!” you laughed. “He even told them he had a job that already pays well and that his parents wouldn’t mind me moving in  with them!”  

Middle Blocker Nanami Kento choked on his drink, covering his mouth with a fist. “There’s no way this is real. There’s….There’s just really no way we’re talking about the same guy, senpai.”  

Fellow Middle Blocker Fushiguro Megumi blinked, his brain visibly glitching. “The same Sukuna who made us do suicide drives on the balls he spikes because Yuuji said practice was ‘lowkey chill’?”  

“Yes! I'm very serious about how this happened, guys!” you grinned.  

Libero Itadori Yuuji was face down on the table, banging his fist. He was trying not to laugh, but all the same failing with great effort. “I can’t breathe! I’m so….I’m so sorry, senpai! This… this is ridiculous! Captain gave a Ted Talk on responsible boyfriend duties?”  

“And he ended it with, ‘I hope that clears things up.’ Like he was closing a business meeting!” you said, nearly wheezing. “I really wish our phones today were there for recording. I would have avoided the trouble of not being believed!”

Suguru wiped tears from his eyes. “Bro, this is it. This is damn good soup. Amazing poetry. We gotta frame this, oh my god.”  

“I’m making it our new team motto, guys!” Satoru declared between gasps. “Right before every match—‘I LOVE YOUR DAUGHTER AND I’LL ALWAYS LIVE FOR HER!’”  

Megumi groaned loudly, head in his hands. “This is my nightmare. I should have joined another team, this is horrible.”  

Meanwhile, Captain Ryomen Sukuna hadn’t flinched once, calmly stirring his hotpot like this was all beneath him. He slurped some noodles, glanced up, and deadpanned, “You’re all idiots.”  

“That’s Mr. Idiot to you, Captain.” Satoru quipped.  

Suguru grinned wickedly. “We’re getting matching shirts. I think we still have an afterparty budget, no? It would be great practice shirts! The tagline in bold has to be like ‘Property of the Captain: Loves Someone’s Daughter, Lives for Her.’”  

“Shut the hell up, Geto. You’re so annoying!” Sukuna muttered, jabbing at the hotpot with his chopsticks.  

“C’mon, my love. This is really great, no?” you teased sweetly.  

His chopsticks froze mid-air. Slowly, he turned his head, glaring at you with the heat of a thousand serves.  “You’re walking home later.” he deadpanned.  

“Don’t worry, senpai!” Satoru cackled, looking at Sukuna and winked. “I’ll give you a ride—to help out my love here!”  

The entire table exploded into chaos as Sukuna sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose.  He was already regretting even arranging the afterparty. And most of all, letting all of you be friends and letting them rub off even more sly behaviour to you.  

“You’re all getting extra laps tomorrow. And you’ll have to run faster! Or you’ll get benched for the next practice match with Kyoto!” he grumbled, but there was a faint smirk tugging at his lips.  

The current threat caused the entire team scattered about in the restaurant in various tables to erupt in groans. At the very least no one was looking at them weird, the whole restaurant was rented. But the chaos ensued, people standing up and arguing that practice should be cancelled tomorrow since you just won. 

Everything was practically in shambles, with Yuuji sliding halfway off his chair, still gasping for breath, still laughing. He was the only one still, besides Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru. Of course that’s to be expected. Itadori Yuuji seemed to be certainly not human with his records.

“Bro, Captain.” he wheezed, pointing shakily at Sukuna, still laughing. “The mental image of you standing there, barefoot, saying ‘I love your daughter and I’ll live for her’— I’m done. I’m tapping out. It’s so corny."

“Straight to the history books, Cap!” Suguru added, wiping tears from his eyes. “Future captains need to hear this legend. Seriously.”  

“Coach is gonna cry laughing when he hears about this. I can’t believe he missed this because of a phone call.” Satoru snickered. “Imagine the look on his face when we put it on our team banner.”

He stood, mimicking a grand reveal. “‘National University Varsity Volleyball Champions! Their motto? We Love Your Daughter and We’ll Live For Her!’”  

“You know what…..Let’s just not have shame, at this point. Put it on the team jackets, on the tumblers. On the balls. Just put it on there. Everything!” Megumi groaned, his head in his hands. Nanami Kento pours him a cup of sake. “Might as well go all the way.”  

“Shut it, Fushiguro.” Sukuna muttered darkly, stabbing a piece of tofu as though it owed him money. “None of you are funny.”  

“Oh, but my love, we are!” Satoru teased, leaning in with a mischievous grin.  

Sukuna slammed his chopsticks down with a loud clack. “I don’t care what the coach says tomorrow. We have practice tomorrow. Three hours. No breaks.”  

The table collectively gasped. 

You snickered under your cup of sake.

Sukuna remains unfazed about it all.

“Captain, please don't do this!” Yuuji begged suddenly, his bright eyes widened. “I have weak joints!”  

“You’re built like a tank, and you were laughing about this like you don’t have an issue with it. So stand proud, Itadori.” Sukuna deadpanned, continuing to eat hotpot. “Suck it up.”  

“You know this is just making it worse, right?” you whispered to him, grinning.  

He gave you a flat look. “You’re definitely walking home.”  

“I’ll take you home, senpai—” Satoru happily chirped.  

Sukuna’s eye twitched. “Shut up before I spike your face, Gojo.”  

Nanami Kento, who had been quietly sipping his sake throughout the madness, finally sighed. “Honestly, I think it’s romantic.” he said with a shrug.  

Everyone froze, stunned.

You almost choked on your next cup of sake.

“Nanami Kento.” Suguru said slowly, snickering as he drank. “Did you just say something sappy?”  

“I’ve had a long day, okay? I’m crashing out, let me be.” Nanami muttered, looking vaguely ashamed. Just as Fushiguro had earlier. Fushiguro Megumi refills his senpai’s cup. “And the booze isn’t helping. God damn it.”

The laughter and the badgering started all over again, louder and more chaotic than before. Sukuna, despite his threats, couldn’t entirely hide the faint smirk tugging at his lips. Leaning toward you, he muttered under his breath. You turned your heat at him, meeting his warm eyes.

“If they don’t shut up, I’m taking this hotpot home and eating it alone.”  

You laughed, nudging his shoulder. “It’s okay, my love. You’ll live for me, right?”  

He groaned. “You’re never gonna let that go, are you?”  

“Never, lover boy.” you grinned.  

He could only sigh as you leaned against him, happily looking at everyone being passionate in arguing against practice tomorrow once again. You giggled as you started to talk with them again. And in that rowdy, absurd, chaotic moment surrounded by chaos, Ryomen Sukuna realized—he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

This is life worth living, after all.

[milkteabinniechan]

♡Almost Famous - Han Jisung

MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY MEMBERSHIP//M.LIST

pairing: college student! Jisung x afab! reader

summary: Your boyfriend wants to perform outside of just his living room. But is he really ready for the spotlight?

contains: fluff, established relationship, insecurities, self-esteem issues, moments of anxiety/panic, emotional comfort

“It's open mic night! You have to do it!”

Han blushed deeply at your words and buried his face in his arms at the bar counter. “No fucking way I'm doing that.” He mumbled into his shirt. You let your head fall gently onto Han's shoulder. You whispered low so he knew that in this crowded bar, that you were speaking only to him. “You are so talented.”

Han lifted his head up. His eyes were wide and his eyelids slightly heavy from the earlier drinks. He was losing his nerve, you could see it. You knew your boyfriend well enough now to know when his heart was beating out his chest.

Han scanned the room to all the college students at the campus bar. You watched his Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallowed. “I don't even have my guitar.” He mumbled.

“Well, actually… I may have put it in the backseat of my car.” You confess.

Han lets out an exacerbated laugh. He wants to be upset with you. But this is one of the reasons why he loves you. And if you believed he was ready to perform, then maybe he really was.

The stage lights were much brighter than Han had expected. One of the bartenders had brought a stool and a mic stand on stage. Tables in front of the stage were filled with college students too caught up in their own conversation to notice the way Han’s hands trembled as he adjusted the microphone to meet his mouth. But in the front row he saw you. And he wished that you had your own stage light to illuminate this all too perfect moment. Han took a deep breath and gave you a quick nod. You smiled and nodded back, your lips silently mouthing the words “I love you.”

Even though his voice was shaking, Han pushed through and let his fingers strum the first note of an original song. As he sang, the conversations in the audience started to die down. Soon, every head was turned towards the stage. Every pair of eyes were locked onto Han’s face as he pressed his lips to the microphone and belted out a long, final chord.

For a moment the room was silent. You were the first to stand, clapping your hands together and cheering. “That’s my boyfriend!” You exclaimed loudly. Han’s face split into a proud grin. His butterflies now dispersed, he leaned into the microphone one last time. “That’s my girlfriend!” He shouted. The rest of the bar cheered with you. Drunken students whooped and hollered and some even sloppily demanded an encore. Han thanked everyone with a modest wave and a bow, his smile permanently plastered and present.

“You’re not bad, kid. Would you consider coming back next week and doing it again?” The bartender asked as you and Han sat down to freshly poured beers.

“Really?” Han responded. His adrenaline was still pumping through his veins like a freight train and he couldn’t trust his own senses right now.

The bartender laughed and scratched his salt and pepper beard. His eyes wrinkled at the corners as he nodded his head in confirmation. “Yes, really. What do you say?”

Han turned on his barstool to face you. “Next week?” His eyes were wide and still in shock. You lifted your hand and gently cupped his face. You rubbed your thumb at the spot right below his eye and gave him a soft kiss. “I told you you were talented, Hannie. Don’t keep that talent all to yourself.”

Han’s eyes welled up with tears and he melted into your touch, pushing his face softly into your hand. Then he turned back to the bartender and gave him a confident “hell yes, next week.”

Turns out that if drunk college kids like the way you sing, they buy you beer. Han was new to this concept of popularity and people noticing him around campus. The next few weeks were filled with applause and free beer. Soon the bar was filled to capacity and eventually had to start turning people away.

“Can you believe this? There was a line out the door tonight!” Han shouted as the two of you walked back to your dorm. He held your hand as you took the long way back. “Of course I can believe it!” You shouted up into the black midnight sky. It was getting colder at night and the beer in your belly was making the two of you sway into each other with each step.

“I love you.” Han whispered into your ear as he pulled you into his chest. You let your body relax and go limp for a moment as he held you. The streetlight above you flickered from a faulty bulb and every few seconds it would be just the two of you in this perfectly silent darkness.

“I love you too, Hannie.” You whispered back into his chest. The smell of his sweater reminding you of your night together. The bar, the students shouting his name, the bartender filling up glass after glass of the amber liquid that coated the floors and counters. You could feel it, in that instant, your mind holding on and locking away these memories forever. The smells, the sounds, the tastes. They were just for the two of you. You and your rockstar boyfriend.

taglist: @simply-trash5 @sugawhaaa @trixiekaulitz @chrizzztopherbang @cassidymb121 @roanns-posts @staysinbloom @yaorzu-blog @bubblebisk @cotton-candycloudz @beautyinhypnosis @domicaru @strawberry31 @slxtmeri @newhope8 @tinyelfperson @dandelions-143 @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @msauthor @fun-fanfics @ell0thebell @stephanieeeyang @juskz @kimahreummm @readr1221 @kayleefriedchicken @ovulatingrn @hwnglixho @darthmaddie25 @queen-in-the-shadows @itgirlalisaa @miinhoo @greyaia @chanchansgirly @skzleeknowcore @skz-smut-reader @thatisrankharry @hearts4yawnzzn @jchotch726 @cherricola-star @minh0scat @kibs-and-bits @minhosgirlposts @firelordtsuki @softkisshyunjin @doyunkang @cocofia143 @nchhuhi @iovecb97 @skzfairyyydreamz @mikeysonlygirl @kwitchabtchn @staystaystaystaaaaa @stay3096 @starmyteez @xanhnax @estella-novella @delulustardust @luvserie @stray-squad @kwitchabtchn @compersian @jinniejjam @0omillo0

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

If you've seen Werepapas, you must be just as baffled as everyone else during "that" scene, huh?

And if you didn't, trust me, you will.

I haven't been watching season six and, based on what I've heard about it, the only way I would ever watch it is if some form of payment was involved. However, I do know what scene you're talking about because I follow enough blogs to have seen the chaos.

For those who are a little more removed from the fandom, the new episode Werepapas just aired and, in it, Adrien's grandparents are akumatized via his amok rings. This is actually a nice bit of tension because we know that akumas can be overcome by talking it out instead of fighting, but we haven't seen what that looks like with the new butterfly holder. This episode provides a good way to show off what that looks like now, emphasizing how much harder it is to deal with Lila's manipulation and establishing that talking it out will not be as easy as it was in season four and five. It also gives Adrien a moment to shine as he obviously has to be the one to free his own grandparents since Marinette has no connection to them and you can't destroy the rings without killing him, right?

Right?

[Image description: Adrien's amok rings lying broken in Ladybug's hand. An akuma is coming out of them, but there is no feather]

Wrong! Let's just let Ladybug break the rings without consequences while Adrien is trapped in a trophy and left completely out of another fight with his family. That's way better story telling!

I know people are horrified by this and asking why Ladybug apparently didn't even try to find another way to free the akuma, but I'm just laughing because I called that she could probably do this months ago! Crocoduel logic fits the pattern! The rings probably had to be on fingers for the amok to go free or some similar bullshit.

Or maybe this is some new logic? Or maybe Adrien isn't a sentimonster after all! Or maybe Lila stole his rings offscreen/in the still unaired first episode! Who knows? Not me! The complete lack is logic is what makes it fun, though, right? Right?

Btw, since we're talking about Marinette and the rings, does anyone know how Marinette knows that the rings are Adrien's amok? Who told her? It wasn't Gabriel or Félix. Did it happen in the London special? Does she even know or was she only hesitant to break the rings because she knew how much they meant to Adrien? I honestly have no idea. I'm still not sure if she knows that he's a sentimonster since all she was canonically told was that Emilie randomly got pregnant after a long battle with infertility:

Félix: But even the best remedies couldn't seem to overcome their curse. (Marinette squints her eyes, immersing herself more in the story.) Félix: Until one day, the curious princess learned that she was expecting — (Both depict Emilie pregnant and Gabriel, with peacock feathers spreading on the background.) Félix: She was pregnant. (Marinette's eyes widen upon realization.)

And that Amelie also got pregnant soon after using the peacock:

Félix: The curious princess felt badly for her twin sister. So, she asked the tailor if he could do something for the good princess and the lord of war to have a child as well. (The scene switches to Félix, acting as Gabriel, talking to Kagami who is acting as Colt.) Félix: (as Gabriel) After much study, I have discovered a solution for you and your wife. But there will be a price to pay. You will give me your best knight to guard my future son. In exchange, I will lend you this magic amulet. It will allow you to give life to your dream and to control it. Kagami: (as Colt) Sorcery? Never! Félix: (as Gabriel) Well, it's up to you, of course. (Just as "Gabriel" is about to take back his offer, "Colt" chases after his hand and accepts this "sorcery" that "Gabriel" talks about, taking the Peacock Miraculous with him as well.)

Ah Miraculous, you never change. How a show for kids is so confusing is beyond me!

note this is all what I've picked up second hand so feel free to let me know if I got any details wrong

[demon-at-peace]

hi, so i generally don't like demon twins, like it's fanfiction, but relationships don't work like that, they aren't brothers. Even if they separated at age 6, 7 or even 8.

because you don't remember stuff. You remember a teacher making you cry, the friends you have. With the terrible dynamic portrayed in most of the fics, both of them would likely only hold on to the bad memories. I'm also between 16-18 and it's like that for me.

I was thinking about it, and why don't they have a terrible relationship in these? it makes more sense then suddenly being brothers. Often we see a cruel Damian, with a neglected Danny in flashbacks. And even more common is Danny and Damian dueling to the death to decide and heir.

Logically then the hate would be one sided, Danny would hate Damian, but Damian wouldn't hate Danny. And Damian (after apologies and treating Danny better) he would expect to be forgiven. He was just a kid, he didn't understand surely Danny can see that.

Danny would see someone who tried to kill him, who betrayed him, who left him to die, and of course he'd hate Damian. but a even cooler response would be fear, he was a kid and trauma exists.And normally these start like that, before they smooth it out in a chapter or 2.

but that's not how it works. I think Danny would avoid Damian he'd snap at him, and on principle he'd dislike the bats, I can see him heading to crime alley because they don't patrol there only to meet Jason and panic.

And Damian would chase him, it's his brother, he has a second chance, and the bats would too. And it would end up terribly. Danny runs and hates them so much and avoids them. they also might remind him of Maddie and Jack or Skuller and lead to panic attacks.

So Danny runs for a year, and the Bats regret their actions. they were rash. They lost a brother, they still search, sifting through reports, looking into people, checking data bases for fake ID's.

Danny is paranoid, he's still quips, still a hero, but he has a mask, he changes his speech patterns, he changes his name entirely. He changes his style to be more like Sams, he looks almost unrecognizable. And he's still scared, and on rare instances he still wakes up with dreams from when Damain stabbed him.

of course to make it worse he could become an established part of the JL a couple years or so after he leaves Gotham. so he's finally settling down finally has friends, and he avoids the Bats. No one in the JL know why Danny hates them, why he's skittish, why he looks at them with so much fear.

Oh misunderstandings! please, have them think Bruce hurt Danny, but he's the worst around Robin. Have Jon try to convince Danny that Robin is nice and all Danny can see when he offers to spar is the duel!

So while I personally don't enjoy this in general this is a concept I would read avidly, though this principle would likely be a heart wrenching angst fic now that I think about it. Anyhow thanks for reading my rant.

i'm sure there is overlap on this idea out there, and I had zero intention to plagiarize anything, please let me know too.

edit: apparently there is a fic like this, and all credits go to the author, thanks to the commenter who told me or I wouldn’t have known,

it’s called Broken Bonds https://archiveofourown.org/works/54372952/chapters/137720050

thanks :)

[0nsyu]

To share a quote from the tattoo artist:

Shisa and Hibiscus This, like Rikiya's, is a design that brings the essence of Okinawa to the forefront. It resembles the standard karajishi seen in irezumi, but the way its ears stand up, among other things, differs subtly. — Horitomo

Taking into account the rest of Horitomo's commentary on his designs (featured in the 10th and 15th anniversary books), as well as commentary from Yokoyama, there is for sure a wealth of evidence for the idea the tattoos are meant to represent the characters in question! I've always felt Yakuza 3's are particularly well-thought out and Nakahara's is no exception, coinciding with Yokoyama's estimation that his writing got a lot tighter overall from that game on.

Lot of good points brought up here, and there are a few things that come to mind about the origins and cultural context surrounding the shisa I'd like to add.

Firstly, shisa are not considered a form of komainu. The two are thought to have evolved separately from the shishi/karajishi at different times. "Shisa" is the Okinawan pronunciation of "shishi," and they're called "shiishii" in Yaeyaman. "Komainu," on the other hand, is chiefly thought to suggest the idea was brought to Japan via Goryeo/Koma, or perhaps more broadly the area around mainland China according to some.

Komainu came to be some time after shishi were brought to Japan from China. Shishi originally came in symmetrical, open-mouthed pairs, but thanks to Japanese sensibilities favoring asymmetry, "shishi-komainu" pairs (with an open-mouthed shishi on the right and a close-mouthed komainu on the left) became popular.

They have other differences, of course: komainu may or may not have horns while shishi never do, among other things, but a number of their features have become muddled in meaning and difficult to distinguish. The term "shishi-komainu" for the pair has in a sense become just "shishi" or "komainu" colloquially because of this, with the distinction between shishi and komainu only being made if they physically differ from one another in a way that's recognized. If you see one with a beribboned ball (like the one pictured in your post above, actually) and one with a cub, though, that's a male and female shishi/komainu respectively.

Shisa were brought to Okinawa from China around the time (or shortly after) the asymmetry between male and female was established, which may be why the open-mouthed and close-mouthed variants came to denote gender instead of species, but that one's entirely speculation on my part. Another difference between shisa and shishi-komainu is that they actually don't come in pairs as often as the game suggests; more often, sure, but there are plenty of examples of lone shisa.

This relates to the final difference I want to highlight for this post, which is that while shishi-komainu guard the emperor and the divine, shisa guard villages and homes; lone shisa were often erected to guard against fires, while pairs were erected to ward off evil. Famously, the lone Tomori shisa, the oldest recorded stone shisa in Okinawa, was used as a shield by US military forces spying on Japanese military forces during WWII. Today, the bullet holes that mark its surface have faded considerably.

So I do think it's interesting that Nakahara has a lone shisa. Shisa are, after all, often tattooed in pairs, on both sides of the chest or on the arms. Where that leads me personally, though, isn't that Kiryu represents the missing half of the pair. With regard to Saki, Kiryu doesn't say a word to her outside of Premium Adventure, and he leaves her care to Rikiya and Mikio, Haruka who volunteers, even the other orphanage kids—everyone but himself, essentially. And she's only staying at the Morning Glory for a week or less before Nakahara gets better, most of which Kiryu is in Kamurocho for. The oryu, like the shishi-komainu, is loyal to the emperor (in this case, Daigo as sixth chairman, a reading Mine's tattoo reinforces) and leaves his responsibilities behind to attend to him.

But it's not specific to Kiryu. To me, no one person represents the missing half of the pair, because there is no missing half of the pair. Nakahara is the lone shisa that guards not just his daughter and his men but his community, a community that loves him and his men and his daughter in return, in stark contrast to most other yakuza organizations in the series. And like the lone Tomori shisa, with its bullet holes from a conflict Nakahara is not even one generation removed from, his must have faded by now too.

Shigeru Nakahara's tattoo being a shīsā (J. シーサー), a regional form of the komainu (J. 狛犬), is actually really cute, and I like how it's surrounded by an Okinawan floral motif.

Shīsā are these iconic Buddhist creatures that you can find in a lot of Japanese shrines and other sacred sites. They're supposed to be protectors that almost always come in pairs. Earlier, you can encounter a substory with a married couple looking for the partner of a shīsā statue that they bought alone that introduces the player to this concept.

What I like about Nakahara's shīsā is that it's alone, he only has one on his back, but as a character he's defined by two particularly strong bonds. One is with Saki, his adoptive daughter, the character he is protecting and whom the desire to protect acts as a power up here, and the other with Kiryu, who is implicitly, in my nerd headcanon here, being positioned as the counterpart guardian during this storyline.

I may be totally off here but I want to believe this is the case because it is more evidence to my growing Yakuza Tattoos Are Advanced Fursonas Theory.

I also just think it's a really cute design for a fat old Okinawa jiji to have.

*the komainu are themselves a regional form of a broader East Asian concept, and I'm pretty sure but not certain that "komainu" itself is a portmanteau meaning "Korean dog," and they're also sometimes referred to as karajishi, meaning "Chinese lion." This is not to say that the symbolism and narratives associated with them are universal!! It's kind of like how gumiho (K. 구미호) foxes in Korean mythology tend to be real assholes who turn into hot women to eat your guts, while their role in Japanese mythology is influenced by the Inari Ōkami (J. 稲荷大神) fox religion.

Shīsā specifically have a lot of Ryukyuan religious influence, and tend to be gendered, with the male having his mouth closed to keep evil out and the female having her mouth open to let good in, though I've heard the reverse. Shīsā can be found in Okinawa on gateposts to non-religious buildings just like Morning Glory, and have been built for a variety of reasons like warding off fires. According to Ryukyuan legend, they were even used to ward off dragons.

Mythology and culture are super complex living things and I'm being very very very broad here. I apologize if I'm incorrect, I am just a student. Please be nice to me.

[dukeofthomas]

I need people to realize how horrible 'stalking/constant surveillance/breaking into each other's homes is how the Batfamily show love' is. Like i really need someone to just acknowledge how horrific saying this bullshit is.

Like even fics where they're shown as happy and healthy and with good ties, you've always got this thing where none of them have privacy or any boundaries with each other. Which is directly antithetical to actually having good relationships. And this invasion via hacking and stalking and breaking into homes is portrayed as a positive, good thing; it's just how they show love and care to each other, after all. But for some reason I just personally don't find stalking, lack of privacy or boundaries, and emotional manipulation funny, endearing, or healthy, and just end up disgusted at the attempt to sweep it all under the rug.

[theokusgallery]

I hate that I have reoccurring themes in everything I make. YES this guy has a complex over the fact that everyone prefers his sibling AGAIN. YES he was ostracized by his peers since he was in primary school and never knew why until years later. URGH

[icewindandboringhorror]

I occasionally wish to reach out to old friends/acquaintances I haven't spoken to since high school/some other even earlier time in my life, but I have SOOO little social energy even for required tasks (like making dr phone calls or etc), I never have any leftover for extra ones, and it would be very odd to message someone I haven't spoken to in like 5 years out of the blue but then take 4 entire months to respond back lol.. My natural curiosity with nostalgia/collecting details of the past/etc. (literally if I were born a little earlier I would definitely do scrapbooking or something lol) is very strong, but, alas, not strong enough to beat out the Social Issues Demons apparently

[lockandkeyblade]

*slams into this post at ten thousand miles per hour*

We can make this worse.

Because this isn't just something that cropped up because of Hollow Bastion! This is something that was built into Sora throughout the Entirety of KH1, because of something he lacked that every other Wielder in the series has had.

Support.

Sora is the first Keybearer in the chronological timeline that has no Master. And yes I know that the very confusing and incorrect way that The Keyblade and The Chosen One are posited to him by literally everyone in the first game is one of those "we honestly thought this game would be a one off, now there's 20+ games and we kind of had to fly by the seat of our pants to establish it properly" things, but He Is, The Only Keybearer Who Comes Into Having A Keyblade Without Proper Support.

Riku gets Mickey. Org 13 might not be the best support but they still understand and support Roxas a heck of a lot more than what Sora gets, and when he's fumbling, he gets to fumble alongside Xion. He is not alone in his confusion and learning. Axel and Kairi literally get a Dragon Ball Z out of time sequence to learn together. Sora has Donald and Goofy, who you either have to say outright do not know enough about Keyblades to even begin to talk about them (which, their king has had one for ages c'mon), or it was kind of their prerogative to let Sora have a similar, universe saving urgency as they did. Or heck, they just didn't have the time to worry about it.

Sora comes into being a Keybearer because Riku's Keyblade decides to have an illicit affair with another man, alone. He's 14. And he's alone. He's lost everything, his island, his parents, his friends. And the only thing that makes him not alone is a magic sword that everyone likes more than him, that ensures people pay attention to him. That he's not left behind.

And then he doesn't have it anymore, and he is left behind.

He is still 14.

He is (was) a 14 year old boy desperate to find some meaning in it all and there was absolutely nothing provided to him that made him special. He was just "the delivery boy", right Riku? It was just "tough luck" that it chose "a kid like you", right Leon? So the important thing could not be, would not be, that he is the Chosen One. It absolutely had to be something else.

So why not everyone else?

Despite all his talks about not caring about not being chosen by the Keyblade, Sora seems to tie a lot of his worth into being a Keyblade wielder. 

The time when he lost the Keyblade in Hollow Bastion was devastating for Sora. Not only his best friend had turned against him, but Donald and Goofy briefly abandoned him.

Although he seems to get over it pretty quickly, there were hints implying that moment hurt him more deeply than he let on. In KH3, he says that when he lost the Keyblade, Donald and Goofy had to go on without him, which I don't think is true? What was stopping them from following Riku with Sora instead of leaving him there alone?

I think that moment might have affected Sora a lot, leading him to think that not only he is useless without the Keyblade, but his friends are going to leave him if he can’t use the Keyblade.

This comes up again in KH2, when Sora is completely lost when he learns that defeating Heartless with the Keyblade is exactly what the Organization wants. He says that he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do if he can’t use the Keyblade and once again he feels useless, albeit he’s able to overcome this fairly quickly.

Then he has to face the Mark of Mastery, and it’s the first time he’s on an adventure on his own. Although he doesn’t seem to care much about becoming a Keyblade Master, he’s confident that he’ll pass the exam as he sees it as a formality. Except, the Organization hijacked themselves into the exam, tricked him and he ended up having to be rescued and failing the Mark of Mastery, losing most of his power in the process.

He tries to brush it off, focusing on his excitement for Riku, but when Yen Sid talks to him after the exam, it’s obvious that Sora is devastated. That experience left him feeling very insecure in his strength, and the constant remarks from villains and allies alike only amplified this insecurity. 

What happened during the Mark of Mastery deeply affected him and he never truly recovered from it (at least not yet). He has lost all his confidence in himself.

The Keyblade didn't choose him, he failed the Mark of Mastery, he's not as reliable as the other wielders, so, to make up for it, he ties his worth uniquely in his connection with other people. His friends are his power, therefore if his friends are gone, he’s worthless. He doesn’t believe he’s able to make it on his own. Not anymore.

[nobodysdaydreams]

Giving a complicated tragic childhood backstory to your favorite character is all fun and games, until you realize you need to account for how old all the other adult characters would have been at the time and realize that scenes that would work perfectly if one character was twenty three and the other was fourteen stop working when you need other characters who are played by adult actors clearly younger than they are to be in college at the same time so your story beats line up thematically.

[gu6chan]

thinking about making that lhc/isj rp multimuse again but the thought of having a zera without a jaibo or a jaibo without a zera is making me want to VOMIT‼️‼️‼️‼️

[such-a-downer]

ADULTS' RIGHT FOR FUN TIME!!!

We’re all goin here right

[ancientrimer]

robin wright really gave everything as buttercup in hindsight. pity she didn’t have any lines to deliver

[eschynite]

I think it's interesting that democracy is demonstrably not necessarily a path to liberty and wellness for a country's people

[great-and-small]

When I was in vet school I went to this one lecture that I will never forget. Various clubs would have different guest lecturers come in to talk about relevant topics and since I was in the Wildlife Disease Association club I naturally attended all the wildlife and conservation discussions. Well on this particular occasion, the speakers started off telling us they had been working on a project involving the conservation of lemurs in Madagascar. Lemurs exist only in Madagascar, and they are in real trouble; they’re considered the most endangered group of mammals on Earth. This team of veterinarians was initially assembled to address threats to lemur health and work on conservation solutions to try and save as many lemur species from extinction as possible. As they explored the most present dangers to lemurs they found that although habitat loss was the primary problem for these vulnerable animals, predation by humans was a significant cause of losses as well. The vets realized it was crucial for the hunting of lemurs by native people to stop, but of course this is not so simple a problem.

The local Malagasy people are dealing with extreme poverty and food insecurity, with nearly half of children under five years old suffering from chronic malnutrition. The local people have always subsisted on hunting wildlife for food, and as Madagascar’s wildlife population declines, the people who rely on so-called bushmeat to survive are struggling more and more. People are literally starving.

Our conservation team thought about this a lot. They had initially intended to focus efforts on education but came to understand that this is not an issue arising from a lack of knowledge. For these people it is a question of survival. It doesn’t matter how many times a foreigner tells you not to eat an animal you’ve hunted your entire life, if your child is starving you are going to do everything in your power to keep your family alive.

So the vets changed course. Rather than focus efforts on simply teaching people about lemurs, they decided to try and use veterinary medicine to reduce the underlying issue of food insecurity. They supposed that if a reliable protein source could be introduced for the people who needed it, the dependence on meat from wildlife would greatly decrease. So they got to work establishing new flocks of chickens in the most at-risk communities, and also initiated an aggressive vaccination program for Newcastle disease (an infectious illness of poultry that is of particular concern in this area). They worked with over 600 households to ensure appropriate husbandry and vaccination for every flock, and soon found these communities were being transformed by the introduction of a steady protein source. Families with a healthy flock of chickens were far less likely to hunt wild animals like lemurs, and fewer kids went hungry. Thats what we call a win-win situation.

This chicken vaccine program became just one small part of an amazing conservation outreach initiative in Madagascar that puts local people at the center of everything they do. Helping these vulnerable communities of people helps similarly vulnerable wildlife, always. If we go into a country guns-blazing with that fire for conservation in our hearts and a plan to save native animals, we simply cannot ignore the humans who live around them. Doing so is counterintuitive to creating an effective plan because whether we recognize it or not, humans and animals are inextricably linked in many ways. A true conservation success story is one that doesn’t leave needy humans in its wake, and that is why I think this particular story has stuck with me for so long.

(Source 1)

(Source 2- cool video exploring this initiative from some folks involved)

(Source 3)